


All I Remember

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: They might've won the war, but the price of Remus's life is too much for Hermione to bear. Using the Time-Turner she never returned, Hermione elects to go back in time with the hopes of preventing bad things from happening to the man she loves, no matter the cost. Choosing to arrive in November of 1979, Hermione comes face to face with the freshly graduated Marauders and a newly pregnant Lily Evans. Determined to befriend them all, save lives, and win Remus's heart no matter how flighty and hesitant he might be, Hermione triggers a series of events that could alter the future she knows for good, or could unravel the fabric of the very universe. Only time will tell, but on thing is certain. She'll do anything for Remus Lupin, and the Dark Lord knows it.





	1. Chapter One

****

**All I Remember**

_By Kittenshift17_

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

_Saturday, May 2nd, 1998._

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Darkness. It permeated everything around her and for the first time in longer than she could remember, she wasn't afraid of it. Sitting in the Great Hall, her elbows rested on her knees, her hands hanging between them. Her head hung low, hiding the faintest tear-tracks that still stained her cheeks. She couldn't stop staring. She wasn't alone in that venture. Many among the hall around her sat in a state of shock and devastation.

The war might be won, but the cost had been great. All around her, the bodies of the fallen rested silently. Order members. Death Eaters. Students. In death they were all at peace together, but the young witch sitting among them could find neither rest, nor peace. Her eyes rested, unseeing, on the faintly scarred visage of the man she'd harboured tender feelings for since the day she'd met him, so many years earlier aboard the Hogwarts Express. At peace beside him lay his young wife. Even in death they seemed to reach for one another and miss ever so slightly, their fingers just barely a hairsbreadth apart.

The young son of the deceased couple slept cuddled across her lap. Harry Potter's godson, Teddy Lupin had ended up in Hermione's arms when Andromeda had been summoned to Hogwarts following the battle. There had been talk of moving the dead, organising funerals and memorials, beginning what she did not doubt would soon become the tiniest of baby steps towards recovery. But the witch clutching the tiny, baby boy of her friend and her crush could not look toward the future.

Remus was dead. Tonks was dead. Fred was dead. George had been administered Calming Draughts but even those hadn't torn him from Fred's side. He laid beside his brother a few meters away, staring unseeingly at the enchanted ceiling of the castle, unable to deal with the blow of losing his twin. Andromeda had dozed off beside the witch where she sat clutching the newborn child. Harry too, had succumbed to sleep, though how he could after so long on the run, so long fighting, so long on edge, Hermione Granger didn't know.

All she knew was that her heart seemed to have ceased its steady beat inside her chest. She moved; walked; talked; breathed; even held the blissfully ignorant baby in her arms, cradled across her lap, his head resting in the crook of her elbow while her hands dangled between her knees.

Remus was dead.

The thought persisted inside her mind; an endless loop of information that refused to compute. She'd been staring at the evidence of that truth for hours and yet she seemed unable to process it. It simply  _couldn't_  be so. He was a werewolf. He ought to have been able to withstand a Killing Curse. He had magic in his blood stronger than any other force in this world. Only the savage mauling from another werewolf or a more powerful magical creature could kill a werewolf. That, and the lycanthropic curse itself. Every-day-magic like spells fired from a wand ought to have bounced right off him like light off a mirror.

Yet he laid at her feet, stone dead. His eyes had been closed out of respect for his departed soul. His body had been arranged to make him look as though he'd simply dozed off upon the cold stone floor.

Intellectually, Hermione understood the repercussions of death. Logically, she knew Remus was utterly dead. Yet, she'd been staring at his lifeless form for hours, waiting in vain for him to draw in a shaky ragged breath and  _live_  once more. She didn't want to go on in a world without him. He might never have known her feelings for him, but she had been content in the knowledge that he lived. That he'd found happiness in Tonks and their young son. She had accepted a long time ago that the age difference between them and the fact that he'd once been her teacher meant she'd never had a chance of ever winning more than a warm friendship with the man, but there could be no denying that she loved him just the same.

It had taken her a while to realise that she  _loved_  him. She recalled thinking herself briefly jealous of Tonks, what seemed like a lifetime ago, but she had learned what it truly was to love him when she accepted that she felt strongly enough to simply wish him happiness, no matter where he found it.

Yet, he was dead.

Her mind simply kept coming back to that fact even as she stared. And the more it returned, circling between thoughts of his untimely death, his noble sacrifice, and the fact that she could never have had a chance with him this way, the more the thoughts seemed to blend together. Hermione shook her head slightly, trying to clear it. She needed to move past this. She needed to look to the future.

But the longer she stared at Remus, the more she found herself thinking that the answers to all of her problems lay in the past. In the past when Remus was alive. When the war had seemed distant. When he'd never met Nymphadora Tonks, nor taught Defence Against the Dark Arts to a bushy-haired, buck-toothed young witch and thus labelled her as utterly off-limits in his mind.

She couldn't move forward, though she knew it was expected of her. No. It seemed to her that the answer to all of the problems looping through her mind lay in the past. The more she thought about it, the more an idea grew, taking shape and beginning to form into a plan. Blinking her stinging eyes slowly, Hermione found herself rising to her feet. She lifted little Teddy Lupin with her, the small boy dozing peacefully in her arms as she turned towards the messy haired wizard sleeping on the bench beside her.

The Elder Wand stuck out of his top pocket, just inviting someone to pinch it from him. Hermione glanced back down at Remus and Tonks, dead at her feet, before pressing a kiss to Teddy's Lupins forehead. She laid the boy between the cold, lifeless forms of his parents. One last look at Remus's peaceful face and Hermione knew what she needed to do. Her footsteps seemed loud in the darkness, but the dead did not hear her as she crossed back to Harry and stole the Elder Wand from his pocket.

He would thank her if he knew. She exited the Hall on determined feet, knowing what she had to do. The beaded bag tied to her belt contained the item she was never supposed to have, and Hermione fished inside of it as she walked amid the darkness that no longer scared her, out into the grounds of Hogwarts. The fine gold chain snagged around her fingers when she resorted to summoning it from the depths of the bag and Hermione felt an old familiar tingle rush through her at the contact.

The last remaining Time Turner.

She'd lied to the Ministry about returning it, having crafted a terribly convincing fake to hand over to them at the end of her third year. Unbeknownst to anyone but Hermione Jean Granger, it had sat nestled in the jewellery box inside her parent's house in London for three long years until she'd modified their memories.

"How many turns?" she mused to herself as she picked her way through the rubble, the devastation left behind in the aftermath of the battle. Hogsmeade too, lay in ruins. Aberforth's pub seemed the most convenient place to go. She didn't doubt the man would have a quiet corner where she could make her decisions. After all, she had figured out the workings of her Time Turner. She knew how to turn it back the years that would carry her deep into the past. She knew how to remove herself from this time and insert herself into another.

But where to travel to? That was the question. If she went back too far, she would disturb the order of things and might prevent things like Harry's birth from ever occurring at all. That would never do. Yet, she also wanted to catch the months prior to James and Lily's death. If she was going back, she wanted to ensure that Harry James Potter would grow up doted upon by a mother and father who loved him. Cared for by a Godfather who would teach him how to woo the ladies and how to ride a flying motorcycle. Taught important things about magic by his Uncle Moony while Remus would revel in the unconditional love of a child that didn't understand the monstrosity of his condition.

Hermione calculated the math inside her head as she exited the grounds of Hogwarts and made a beeline for  _The Hog's Head_  in the distance. The lights were still on in the pub, Aberforth apparently knowing enough about grief to know that more than a few would be looking to drown their sorrows on a night like this. He was tending the bar when she slipped inside, the mood sombre and the patrons quiet as many of them cried into their pints.

Harry had been born at the end of July in 1980. Hermione rationalised that he'd have to have been conceived during the end of October or early November in 1979. Her lips twisted when she recalled that Sirius's birthday was the 3rd of November. Perhaps James and Lily had both had a little too much to drink that night to remember contraception. The idea would have amused her, under any other setting. Based on that projection, Hermione surmised that Lily would have been almost 39 weeks at the time Harry had been born.

Not willing to risk bumbling up Harry's conception, Hermione settled on a date to arrive. She was too busy counting the number of turns inside her head that would carry her from May 2nd of 1998 to November 10th of 1979 to mind the other patrons of the pub. A frown furrowed her brow. 6374 days. That's how many days she needed to travel backward through time. 152976 was entirely too many turns to make to turn each individual hour.

Hermione sighed to herself, twisting one of the dials on the side of the Time Turner that she'd been told never to touch. Indeed, when she'd been lectured at length by the Unspeakable who'd given her to Time Turner, Hermione had been shown that this dial wasn't supposed to move. It had been charmed to stay in place to prevent accidents, but Hermione wasn't having any of that. She'd tampered with the thing until she'd made it work again and now not only could she turn back the hours, but the days, months and even years. She turned the dials to fix it in place that she would travel back eighteen years and 7 months into the past, less a few days.

Taking a deep breath, she released the hourglass, setting it to spin, to count back the time. She didn't stop to think about how she would explain her presence, how she would insinuate herself into the lives of the Marauders or the Order. She didn't even pause to think that she might look a bit bedraggled to be landing in the past, covered in the grime of battle, with bloodstains on her clothes, a cut on her lip and another on her cheek. All she could think about was that Remus was dead and that she couldn't look to the future when Remus was dead.

As the hourglass began to spin, Hermione Granger closed her stinging eyes, leaving behind the life she'd known, the battle she'd fought so hard to win, and the friends she loved. She left it all, her mind beyond the ability to rationalise such things. Instead she closed her eyes and she fought to ignore the sickening sensation of being hurled back 6734 days into the past, feeling the cosmos spin around her while she remained still, all of it wheeling past in seconds thanks to the power of magic. She kept her eyes closed until the spinning stopped and then she kept them closed a minute longer, not quite ready to face the reality of what she'd done.

Indeed, she kept her eyes tightly closed until one apparently surprised wizard dumped his pint over her head, giving a shout at her sudden appearance upon his lap.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

_Saturday, November 10th, 1979_

**The Hog's Head, Hogsmeade**

Hermione hissed in annoyance at the feel of cold beer trickling under the collar of her shirt even as she stumbled off the lap of the wizard she'd startled.

"Sorry," she apologised in a slightly slurred voice, her head still spinning from the trip back.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, lassie? Landing on people? Who taught you to Apparate?" the man was grumbling as she tried to keep her balance and exit his presence as quickly as she could. She'd no clue who he was, not daring to look at him when she needed to get her bearings. She had no doubt she was still inside the Hog's Head pub and she wondered if she ought to be relieved or scandalised to notice that it looked almost exactly the same now as it had done twenty years into the future. Aberforth  _really_  needed to do something about the level of cleanliness in this place. How it passed any kind of Ministry inspection for health standards was beyond her.

She spotted the grumpy publican in question standing behind the bar and polishing a glass with a filthy rag. He was staring at her suspiciously thanks to the kafuffle she'd caused by appearing out of nowhere. The lie that she'd apparated in would have to do but Hermione could tell from the look on his face that the defiance of Apparation Etiquette – which demanded that one not apparate inside of a building without express permission to do so – was not winning her any points with the man.

Hermione shuffled up to the bar, still feeling dizzy. She fished a few Sickles from inside her pocket and put the money on the bar.

"Butterbeer, please?" she mumbled to Aberforth.

He eyed her in silence as he fished the bottle from beneath the bar.

"You look like you've seen a rough time," he commented when Hermione used her already-grimy hand to dust off the bottle and wipe the top for germs before drinking from it in deep gulps.

"You have no idea, Mr Dumbledore," Hermione muttered in return, feeling the effects of the Butterbeer warm her numb innards. She felt mildly revived as it worked through her system and Hermione found herself able to think a little more clearly.

"Just who are you that you know my name, missy?" Aberforth queried, not looking thrilled by the address. "Don't reckon I saw you up at the school when you would've been studying."

Hermione offered him a tight-lipped smile.

"I didn't get out much whilst at school," she lied smoothly. "Listen, you have rooms for rent here, right? I think I need one for the night."

"I reckon you need one for a week, the way you look," Aberforth told her rudely. "Don't reckon I've got enough hot water to get you clean again, either."

Hermione made a face when he nodded at the state of her clothing.

"I'll burn these clothes if I can have a warm bed and a hot shower," Hermione shrugged her shoulders at him.

Now that she was here, she needed a plan. Something beyond travelling back in time to where Remus, Sirius, James, and Lily would still be alive. She needed a means of finding them all, though she had a decent idea of where to look for James and Lily as Harry's birth drew closer. It would be preferable to locate them all  _before_  then, of course, but she would search Godric's Hollow first.

She needed a plan of attack. Her mind circled around the idea carefully. Half of her brain was screaming that the most logical thing to do would be to march right up to Hogwarts and demand an audience with Professor Dumbledore. The rest of her mind was pointing out all the reasons that the man had let them all down with his secrecy and his willingness to sacrifice it all for the Great Good.

No, Albus Dumbledore wasn't the answer. Hermione could just tell that it would take more than she was willing to share for him to believe she'd come from the future. She also didn't trust the crafty old bugger not to let things play out exactly as they had if the outcome would remain the same.

"Don't set my bloody pub on fire, or I'll skin you, girl," Aberforth informed her. "You want a single or double room?"

Hermione snorted at the question.

"Do I look in any state for company?" she asked in reply, raising one eyebrow curiously.

Aberforth had the decency to snort in amusement over the idea.

"Singles are four Galleons a night," he told her. "How many nights do you want?"

"One, for now," Hermione sighed, fishing the money out of her beaded bag. "I'll let you know if I need anything longer than one night."

He nodded at her.

"What's your name?" Aberforth asked. "Got to put it in the book before I can give you a key."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione offered quietly.

He scribbled the name down in a ledger behind the bar and handed her a rusted, olden-style key. Hermione took it gratefully.

"Can I take the Butterbeer upstairs?" she asked.

"Don't leave it up there when you leave," he shrugged in return. A kafuffle across the bar between two drunk patrons drew his attention before Hermione could ask any more questions and she sighed once more.

A plan. She needed a plan.

"Parchment," she muttered to herself. "Need to write everything down before I forget."

She hurried around the bar and up the stairs that she'd learned led to the rooms for rent. Her key had a tag on it claiming she was in room number three and Hermione let herself inside it when she reached it. It didn't look like much, nothing more than a narrow single bed, an ugly oil lamp that she lit with her wand, and a rickety looking desk.

Hermione hurried over to the desk immediately, for the time being ignoring the small water-closet off the main room, no matter how desperately she needed a shower. Her own comforts would have to wait. First, she had to make notes for herself of everything that she remembered from the future she'd left behind. She'd come with no plan in mind beyond ensuring that Remus Lupin would never lie dead upon the stone floors of Hogwarts.

That, she decided, would be her ultimate goal. If ensuring that he lived a long and happy life also meant saving the rest of the wizarding world, well, all the better. Hermione noted down the important dates she could remember. Halloween of 1981; the deaths of the McKinnon family. Snape's loyalty. Pettigrew's betrayal. Death Eater attacks she recalled hearing tell of or reading about from this time. All of it would come in handy.

When she'd noted down all that she could think of, she had half a notebook full of important names and dates. Only then did she slip the book back inside her beaded bag and allow herself to make use of the washroom. Her skin stung when she stood beneath the barely trickling faucet, letting it wash away the layers upon layers of grime, sweat and filth that had accumulated during the battle both up at the castle and deep within the Chambers of Secrets.

She uncovered bruises and scrapes as she bathed herself clean once more. Aberforth had been right, there wasn't enough hot water to get her completely clean, but Hermione was still so numb with the recent death of her loved ones and her friends that the stinging cold of the water seemed distant as she rinsed herself clean.

They were gone from her now. Hermione took a slow, shuddering breath when that particular fact flitted through her tired mind. In this time Remus might be alive, but Harry, Ron and Ginny were not yet real. Luna and Neville weren't alive yet. Mr and Mrs Weasley would have no idea who she was. The thoughts hit her hard, threatening to bring her to her knees, but the fact that somewhere, that very second, Remus Lupin was alive and well cancelled out the urge she had to give in to her despair.

Hermione laughed stupidly to herself. She'd never imagined herself the type of self-sacrificing martyr who would throw away her life for a man, but there she was, in a foreign time, doing just that. Shaking her head to herself, she dried off, dressed in the few remaining clothes she could find within her beaded bag, and crawled between the sheets.

It occurred to her as she closed her eyes that she ought to be hungry; that she ought to seek out something to eat before she could sleep. But as her mind began to drift, the last thing she wanted was food. She'd been living on so little in the months on the run with Harry that she'd simply learned to ignore the gnawing ache deep in her stomach for food. She'd lost enough weight that under the grime she'd bathed off, she looked skeletal and sickly, but she was beyond caring. As far as she was concerned right then, she was still getting enough sustenance to keep her cycle semi-regular and still had all her hair – even if some large, matted clumps had washed free when she'd finally had the time to condition it in the shower – so everything else could wait until morning.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

_Sunday, 11th November, 1979_

**Diagon Alley, London**

Diagon Alley looked nothing like the one she remembered. Or rather, it did, but the one she'd known from before the war. People still bustled about their business, though shady glances were thrown about as she strolled through the Leaky Cauldron and into the street. School was currently in session, so the only children in sight were those who happened to be too young for Hogwarts yet, accompanied by their parents.

Hermione shook her head to herself, her wand gripped tightly in her fist, concealed inside her pocket. She'd been up and gone before Aberforth could rouse himself that morning, leaving the room in the Hog's Head just a bit cleaner than she found it. She was on edge and hadn't particularly liked the idea of coming to Diagon Alley at all. There were too many people getting about. Worse, there were too many who seemed either oblivious or uncaring about the war raging around them.

She'd come for two reasons. The first was that if she planned to do any good in this time – and she knew she had no choice now that she was here but to live out the rest of her days on this timeline – she needed to open a bank account. She had plenty of money with her, having emptied the college fund her parents had set up for her before she'd sent them to Australia. She'd had most of it converted into Galleons and had been lugging it all around inside her purple beaded bag. The Undetectable Extension charm meant that she could do so, and the protective charms meant none but her and Harry would ever be able to open it.

But she needed to settle into a life here. If she wanted to fit in and not seem like someone up to no good – and Hermione wasn't certain she could truthfully say she had the noblest of intentions – she needed to make it look like she belonged. Therefore, she needed three things. A bank vault; a job; and a place to live. Preferably in that order.

Skulking up the alley, Hermione kept her eyes peeled for any hint of trouble or Death Eater activity. The entrance to Knockturn Alley gaped like a hungry maw when she passed it, people steering clear of it so they wouldn't be construed as dabblers in the Darker Arts. Hermione clenched her wand tighter, on edge as she made her way toward Gringott's in the distance.

She jumped when a pair of young children – perhaps six or seven in age – burst from a nearby shop, waving sticks and pretending to duel one another. The flinch did not go unnoticed. Hermione's eyes slid across the form of someone she vaguely recognised as a young Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was sitting in a café across the street and he was watching her. Hermione's heart swelled at the sight of the Auror – so young and so handsome – but she didn't dare approach him. She let her eyes skim over him carefully and when he shifted position slightly, she caught the gleam of his MLE badge attached to his belt.

He was watching her and Hermione knew that she probably looked shifty. Morgana's Crows, she  _felt_  shifty. She knew she ought not to be there. Her sleep had been fitful and filled with the nightmares that had plagued her since the war had begun. She had dark circular bruises under her eyes and a cut on her lip, a scrape on her cheek, and a slight limp as she walked.

To anyone on the MLE, she probably looked the definition of a flighty victim, or alternatively, the type who was mixed up in things beyond her depth. She knew she had the look of a woman willing to do just about anything to achieve her ends. Kingsley's gaze felt heavy as she made her way toward the bank and when she picked up a tail, Hermione knew she was going to have to do something about the way she was drawing the attention of the Aurors.

She was also thinking that whoever was tailing her needed more practice at being a tail because she made him straight away. Dark haired, built, and handsome, Hermione did a double-take in the shop-front window of Flourish and Blotts. Sirius Black was tailing her. Hermione might've choked on her own tongue at the sight of him.

The tales she'd heard about his looks being ruined by Azkaban were true. A week into his twentieth year, Sirius Black was drop dead gorgeous. He was a lousy tail because of it. He drew too much attention. Especially from the witches in the alley. Hermione watched a gaggle of pretty witches giggling and trying to get his attention as he passed the dress shop, following her. To his credit, Sirius didn't spare them a glance.

It would be his undoing. He was focusing too hard on tailing her and on trying to keep her in his sights. Hermione smirked when he walked right into cabbage cart outside the Apothecary and she used it to her advantage to slip away into the crowd more fully before he could put himself to rights.

She didn't really want to stop, but she found herself slipping inside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. She bought herself a single cone of chocolate ice-cream, watching in the reflective surface of the display case as Sirius hurried up the street, obviously searching for her. She almost wanted to laugh, realising that he was obviously still a rookie Auror and that he'd likely be in trouble for losing his mark so easily. He'd be in trouble, but it would make him a better Auror in the long run and that could only be a good thing. With her ice-cream in hand, Hermione left the shop, hiding her amusement when Sirius spotted her once more.

His face lit up and a determined glint came into his grey eyes. It took more than she'd thought possible to keep from walking right up to him and saying 'hello'. As she devoured her ice-cream, Hermione realised she was starving and she thought seriously about stopping somewhere for something more substantial, but she didn't dare. She needed to get to the bank and open a vault. After that she could have breakfast before looking for somewhere to live.

Hurrying up the street once more, Hermione weaved in and out of the other patrons in the Alley. The bank was as foreboding as ever when she entered, but Hermione made a beeline for the desk where new vaults could be opened. She knew where it was, of course. She'd done it all before when she'd turned eleven and her parents had insisted on opening a vault for her in the time she'd left behind.

"I need to open a new vault, please," Hermione said to the goblin on the desk when he looked up at her.

"Name?" he asked.

"Hermione Granger."

He scanned the register of every vault they had recorded to make sure she didn't already have a vault to her name.

"This way, please," he said, getting of his chair and inviting her into the back offices away from the main room in the bank.

Hermione followed him quickly, knowing what she was in for within. To open a vault, she needed to provide a blood sample and needed to let the goblins scan her magical core. The process was simple, for all that it was invasive and uncomfortable, so it didn't take too long before vault 3427 was officially hers.

"I'd also like to make some deposits, while I'm here," Hermione told the goblin when the paperwork was in order and she'd been entrusted with her key.

The goblin grunted and called a colleague in to show her down to her vault. Hermione went with him eagerly, more than ready to be free of the many prized possessions she was carrying on her person. Most notably, things she'd forgotten to remove from her bag before travelling back in time. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black was among them. If she'd already caught the eye of the MLE, she imagined she'd soon be searched and she didn't want to be caught with so many things that couldn't be explained.

Moreover, she needed to get rid of the Time Turner around her neck. It was much too dangerous an artefact to carry on her person when she had no need of it. If she were struck with a stray hex and it broke, she would surely be in strife. The goblin showing her to her vault waited out the front when he'd unlocked it for her, eyeing her curiously as though the idea of her having anything valuable on her person was unlikely.

"Grapple?" Hermione asked of the goblin when she'd unpacked the portrait, the many –  _many_  – Galleons, the Time-Turner and most of her other prized possessions inside the vault, rapidly filling it up.

"Mistress Granger?" Grapple asked, turning and poking his head into the vault. His eyes widened in shock at the things she had inside of it.

"I also want to make a deposit to the vault of Remus Lupin," she told the goblin. "I don't know his vault number and I don't have a key. How do I make deposits like that?"

"There are forms in the main office," he said, eyeing her. "It's uncommon practice to do so. Most wizard-folk simply exchange funds themselves."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "But he refuses to take the coins I owe him, so I'll have to get them to him another way."

She stayed mum on the fact that Remus wouldn't take her money because he had no idea who she was, even if she knew him to be too proud to accept charity should she offer him money on the street.

"Very well. You will need to bring the amount you wish to pay him and submit it at the desk along with your forms," Grapple informed her.

"Thanks, Grapple." Hermione smiled at the little goblin kindly. "I think I have everything put away that needs to be, for now. We can return to the main atrium as soon as you're ready."

The goblin nodded as she exited her new vault, pulling the door closed behind her. She watched him use her vault key to lock it up once more. The wild ride back to the main office was something that once would've amused her but now simply sought to annoy her. Knowing what she knew of the dragons in the deep vaults and knowing that the goblins had many other mechanisms for ensuring against thievery that could be thwarted, Hermione found herself trusting the entire establishment a little less than she once had.

Transferring money into Remus's vault proved tricky, given that she didn't know his vault number. She had to wait almost a half hour while the goblins looked up the right account before they would accept the money she wanted deposited inside of it. They gave her a receipt and took it down to his vault for her before allowing her to leave. By the time she was allowed to go, she was starving and the gnawing ache of hunger drove her to the nearest café.

She picked up her tail again too, smirking to herself when Sirius followed her down the street once she exited the bank. He ordered himself a coffee when she sat at one of the tables in the café, but he didn't approach her. One of the serving girls brought over her food and her pot of tea along with a copy of the  _Daily Prophet_. Hermione fished a quill from her bag and circled both the jobs she'd like to interview for and the flats she could afford.

She watched as Sirius grew impatient across the café too, obviously no good at the waiting game but still suspecting her of criminal activity. Eventually, she got tired of having him stare at her. Tucking the paper into her purse, Hermione polished off her breakfast – a small omelette filled with vegetables – and drank down her tea quickly. Sirius sat across the shop staring at her the entire time. Hermione stared back, a little smirk growing upon her face when he grew slightly uncomfortable under her direct gaze.

He seemed able to pick up on the difference between the other women in the café staring at him for his looks, and the way Hermione stared at him uncannily. Indeed, he shifted slightly in his seat and looked away, obviously growing uncomfortable. Hermione laughed to herself about it. She shouldn't taunt him when he had no idea who she was, but he needed to work on being less conspicuous if he ever wanted to tail actual criminals.

When she was almost finished her meal, Hermione caught the arm of her waitress.

"Can you send another coffee to Auror Black, please?" Hermione asked her. "On me."

She gave the girl the money for another coffee.

"You know every girl in here wants to send him coffee, right?" the waitress asked, looking mildly miffed by the idea of doing so.

"Of course, they do," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look at him, he practically begs to lavished with attention. But I don't want to dote and I've no interest in winning his affection. I want you to write on the cup that he needs to work on his stealth. Don't tell him it's from me, yeah?"

"You know him or something?" the waitress asked.

"You might say that."

"Alright, but don't expect a date out of it. He probably won't even drink it. He's been caught out too many times with people trying to slip him love potions."

Hermione laughed at the very idea.

"I don't care if he drinks, I just want him to read the message on the cup," Hermione assured the girl.

The waitress shrugged, eyeing her as though she must be deranged before walking off to do as she'd been asked. Hermione finished her tea and fished a pot of healing salve from her bag, smearing it on the cuts upon her face and watching them heal up in the reflection on her spoon. She planned to make her way to a job interview when she was finished, so she wanted to make a decent impression. She'd dressed that morning in the last change of clothes she had with her – a pair of jeans that had been too tight when she'd stuffed them into the bag but now hung a little loose thanks to her malnutrition, and a casual suit-jacket over a tank top – and so she wasn't holding out high hopes that she'd land any sort of decent job.

She also didn't technically need to work; she had plenty of money with her for everything she could possible need - unless she suddenly needed to buy something outrageously extravagant like Buckingham Palace – and so she was looking for a job that would be more of a causal type position within Diagon Alley where she could hear gossip to tip her off on goings on within this time and potentially save people. She also made sure that all the ones she was thinking of trying out for were the types she imagined Remus might apply for.

She remembered a conversation with him from before Voldemort's resurrection. She'd asked him what he'd done for work when she'd heard him lamenting losing  _another_  position. He'd told her that after finishing Hogwarts he'd mostly been supported by James and Sirius – who'd both refused to listen to his protests against charity or pity – and the rest he'd earned at whichever job he could hold for any decent amount of time before his condition was discovered.

She was thinking that if there was ever going to be any way to run into him and to keep an eye on him or work her way into his life, it would be to attend the same types of job interviews and the Ministry Employment office for job seekers. She'd been awake half the night thinking about how she was going to insinuate herself into his life and this was the most feasible option. Hermione was ashamed to admit that she'd also entertained notions of seeking him out and informing him that she was his karmic reward for being so wonderful in a world that was so wretched to him; and of simply seducing him using less than scrupulous means.

Indeed, she'd entertained herself for almost a half hour playing out scenarios of seduction she might use on him. She'd checked the lunar cycle, however, and discovered that it had been a full moon over Sirius's birthday – the three days falling on and directly after Sirius's birthday. As such she knew that with the last quarter moon of the cycle he would likely be still recovering from the full moon and feeling under the weather, rather than having the stirrings of an approaching moon tricking him into thinking animalistic displays including sex were the answer to his excess energy and testosterone.

Grinning to herself again at the thought she'd had of finding Remus and shoving him up against a bookshelf before snogging him senseless, Hermione left the café. Sirius followed her, called after by the waitress when he tried to leave without the coffee Hermione had sent him. Tucking the day's paper under her arm, Hermione strolled down the street with her eye fixed on an apothecary. They were looking for two new staffers – one to handle brewing and one to work the shop and sell products.

Hermione was thinking of trying for the shop-job, not willing to risk standing out too well in the world when she needed to blend in and operate from the shadows. Part of her wanted to run to the Order and tell them all about everything that would happen if they didn't fix them and take precautions. The rest of her knew better than to meddle with time that way.

Allowing anyone more than herself the knowledge of what the future could hold would be dangerous. Some, like Dumbledore, would look at the idea of what was coming and weigh the losses sustained against a guaranteed victory in the end and refuse to change anything. Others would try to change  _everything_  to prevent those losses and cause more harm than good. Hermione herself had been meditating long and hard on how things might play out differently if she interfered.

For example, if she protected James and Lily, Harry would grow up with parents in a loving home where he would be adored, rather than in a house where he was abused by his relatives. He would never become a horcrux for Voldemort, but he would also never uncover the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets as he would never be able to speak Parsletongue. If she exposed Pettigrew for a traitor, he would never rat out his friends and try to pin it on Sirius, thus leaving Remus alone in the world.

On the flip-side, however, if James and Lily lived, everything she knew of the future would change and not necessarily for the better. She knew the risks of the Butterfly Effect and she could potentially do more harm than good if she meddled. Of course, she still had the Time-Turner, so unless her meddling got her killed, she could simply go back again and make sure those same mistakes didn't occur but the danger of it was high. Worse was the fact that despite all she knew of Time Travel, there were some things that were simply set in stone.

It was argued that while all the variables could be manipulated to avoid a certain event – such as the death of a loved one – there were often times when that person would simply succumb to death another way if it was ordained that they must die. The theory was indeed proved by Sirius. He'd escaped death at the hands of the Dementor's when she and Harry had saved him, but he'd subsequently died on one of his next excursions outside the safety of Grimmauld Place. Indeed, he'd been in danger of drinking himself to death  _inside_  it.

It might very well be that she could save James and Lily from Voldemort next Halloween, but they might instead – perhaps days or years later – die in a much more tragic way. The trouble was, the only way to tell was to meddle. Sometimes deaths occurred when they didn't have to. Indeed, James hadn't had to die. He'd died because he'd been attacked whilst unarmed, trying to defend his family. Lily hadn't had to die either. She could have stood aside and let Voldemort try to kill Harry, just the same. Well, maybe she  _couldn't_  in an emotional sense, but in the most literal sense it had been an option to her.

One she'd chosen to ignore. Instead she had died and protected Harry. That they'd both had the choice made Hermione think that their deaths were not set in stone. Sirius had been doomed because he'd had no means to avoid his certain death but for their intervention with time. Hermione nibbled her lip as she approached the Apothecary, glancing down at herself once more and knowing she didn't look magical enough or respectable enough for any kind of position.

Morgana's Crows, if it were  _her_  business, she wouldn't hire herself right then. She knew she looked like a tweaker. She was too skinny; her eyes too haunted; her hands too shaky. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame, making her look even less professional. Indeed, she looked like she'd pinched the clothes from elsewhere.

Frowning at herself for a moment, Hermione pulled on the lapels of her jacket, muttering charms to shrink the size to better fit her scrawny frame. She couldn't do much for her hair or the fact that she looked like she'd barely slept in a year. She couldn't do much for the way her hands shook either. It was partially nerves over attending a job interview and mostly a terrible feeling that she was going to be attacked at any moment. Something not at all helped by the feel of Sirius Black's gaze boring holes in her back as he tailed her down the alley.

Still trying to get her jacket to fit a bit more snugly so that she'd look more like she was simply waifish rather than a thieving meth-head, Hermione ceased paying quiet so much attention to her surroundings. Which probably explained why she walked right into someone on the street. Someone firm and tall. Someone who smelled of chocolate, and parchment, and petrichor. Someone whose large, warm hands lifted to catch her by the arms before she could bounce right off him and land on her arse.

Her head snapped up in surprise as her nostrils flared to draw that oh-so-deliciously-familiar scent deep inside her chest where she could keep it forever. Her wand had automatically twitched in her grip to aim at him instinctually when he grabbed her. Her eyes widened as she realised, and his brow furrowed slightly when he caught the way her reflexes demanded she aim it threateningly while her brain told her to relax because it was him.

It was Remus.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

_Sunday, 11th November, 1979_

**Diagon Alley, London**

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as her gaze lifted to collide with his. Remus. The familiar green of his eyes was a delight to her senses, the bright colour reminding her of a nice fresh apple.

"Erm… are you alright?" he asked when Hermione simply stared at him, her tongue having glued to the roof of her mouth as she gaped at him in awe.

There was no other way to put it than to say that Remus Lupin was sex personified. Something that she doubted he'd be pleased to hear, but it was the truth nonetheless. Everything she'd heard and what little she'd seen suggested that Sirius was the handsomer of the two, but as she stared at a nineteen-year-old Remus Lupin, she was forced to disagree. Sirius Black was too pretty to be considered in league with Remus, at least in Hermione's opinion.

His hair was just a touch too long in front, falling into his eyes as though in an attempt to better hide the three scars that slashed through his left eyebrow, between his eyes and across his nose and part of his right cheek. It looked slightly shorter on one side than the other, too. Hermione suspected he'd probably tried to cut it himself to look respectable for the interview. He was dressed in professional looking robes that looked like they'd already had too much use. Hermione didn't doubt they had. They weren't yet shabby, but they were on their way simply because he had to use them so often to get new jobs.

"I…" Hermione's mouth moved while her brain was still reeling from the fact that she wanted to climb Remus like a tree, right there in the street in front of everyone. "I'm  _so_  sorry!"

Her cheeks flushed when she realised she'd been standing there gawping at him like an imbecile after having crashed into him.

"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and I didn't even see you. I didn't hurt you, did I? Morgana's crows, I'm such an idiot! Please tell me I didn't step on your foot? Oh, no and you've dropped your briefcase, let me just…"

She pulled out of his grip and dived down to collect the case for him, barely registering the way the position meant her head was level with his stomach. Her brain had kicked into hyper-drive as a result of seeing Remus so young; so alive; so handsome. She was babbling and making a fool of herself, but now that her mouth had engaged, she seemed to have misplaced the brakes and words just kept tumbling out.

"Godric, and then I just stand there, gawping at you like a fool rather than using my manners or my bloody brain! I really wasn't expecting to run into so handsome a wizard and I should've been paying far more attention because goodness, I could've crashed into  _anybody,_  and it's not exactly the safest of times to be doing that and look at you. You're giving me that look people give me when I can't control the babble pouring out of my mouth and I'm sorry, but I swear I didn't mean to run into you and I hope you're not hurt."

Remus's eyes had widened when she'd begun to speak, and only widened further at the feel of her cheek brushing his belt buckle before she straightened and reached for his hand, pressing the handle of his briefcase into it without thinking that he might not want to touch her. Indeed, he looked all the more startled at being called handsome. Hermione had to physically clap her hand over her mouth to cease her chatter when his lips twitched like he wanted to laugh at her because she was making such a fool of herself.

Her cheeks heated, and Hermione offered him an expression of exasperated mortification, which he seemed to find all the funnier.

"Sorry," she blurted, uncovering her mouth to speak but pressing her fingertips to her lips once more to prevent more babbling. She didn't want him to think she was some brainless twit but for a moment she felt rather like one.

Was this how girls acted when handsome young men were around? Was this inexplicable urge to squeal in excitement at the very sight of him what had caused people like Lavender and Parvati to make such fools of themselves to gain the attention of boys? She didn't like it. Her stomach was doing triple backflips and she'd never felt this way before. Even with her crush on Remus when he'd been her teacher, she'd never had butterflies or babbled like this.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked her kindly, offering her a smile.

Hermione nodded her head vigorously, her eyes drinking in the sight of him. Merlin, she'd thought him handsome with wrinkles, grey threaded through his sandy hair and twenty years of grief, and loneliness, and his condition hanging on his face. But right there, in that moment, she was sure she'd never seen anyone as magnificent at Remus. He wasn't classically handsome or even anything all that unusual. In a most literal sense he had a memorable face entirely because of his scars and because of the way his lips twitched toward a teasing grin.

Yet to Hermione he was like an embodiment of all she could ever remember wanting. Indeed, she found her mouth parched with the need to reach up on her toes and snog him senseless. Judging by the way his nostrils flared, picking up her scent, Hermione realised he could probably smell her attraction to him, too. All the more mortified to be given away right from the off, Hermione wanted to turn around and dash away.

"I didn't hurt you?" he asked. "I'm sorry I grabbed you like that. I didn't want you to fall over."

"I… no, really it's no problem. Feel free to grab me anytime…wait… that came out wrong," Hermione's cheeks cut red once more and Remus actually began to laugh when she clapped her hand over her mouth once more. "Gods, this is just… mortifying. Why did I even come here today? More importantly, how did I manage it with my enormous foot lodged in my mouth? Please, just forget you ever saw me and try not to paint me in too harsh a light when you tell your friends about the walking disaster you were accosted by this morning."

Remus laughed softly, chuckling to himself whilst watching her intently. Hermione wanted to run away. She'd never wanted to do that before. At least, not without being chased by some kind of monster. Worse, she wanted to find somewhere to hide where no one could see her lecture herself for being such a babbling idiot. This wasn't her. She was bookish. A stern, collected sort of witch who had faced down Death Eaters, and raging centaurs, and a hungry werewolf. She wasn't a twit and she didn't want to act like one.

"I don't know who you are, little witch," Remus murmured, his eyes still fixed on her as they began to thread faintly with the gold of his alter-ego. "But I'm rather delighted to have run into you just now."

Hermione's eyes darted up to hold his stare and she wondered what he would do if he knew the wolf was peeking out of his eyes right then. She'd seen his eyes do it countless times in the past, often when he looked at her while she was animatedly arguing magical theory with him at Grimmauld Place and making Tonks want to beat them both over the head for debating such things at the dinner table.

"Hectate's hellions, I've not even introduced myself, even after practically using you as a target for battering ram practice. I'm so sorry. My name is Hermione," she blurted, her cheeks turning crimson once more as he pointed out that not only was she making a fool of herself, but she was also being rude.

"I'm Remus," he grinned. Hermione glanced down at the hand he offered for her to shake before reaching for it quickly. Too quickly. Merlin, now she looked overeager, too. Why didn't she just fling herself naked at his feet and beg him to love her while she was at it? "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione."

Hermione could only shake his hand continuously, feeling callouses on the palm of his hand and shivering at the way he idly traced the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. She was staring again.

"I… um. Yes. A pleasure meet you, too," she said, having to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth when she recalled the right order the words should go in. "Are you quite sure I haven't damaged you, slamming into you like that? I can't apologise enough. It was careless of me to be so distracted and now I'm chattering again. You've got a brief case, you've probably got somewhere to be and I'm standing here chattering your ear off with needless prattle. I'm so sorry. I'd offer to buy you a coffee or something to make up for it but then you'd be subjected to more of my prattle, and sweet Circe, Hermione! Shut up before he  _realises_  you're insane and has you committed."

Hermione blinked in shock when this time it was Remus's fingertips pressing to her lips to silence her. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flooded once more. Indeed, the touch had another part of her body flooding too and she was certain he could smell that, too. Hermione trembled at the way he smiled at her.

Unbidden she found herself nipping the pads of his fingers where they rested so intimately against her lips and Hermione was going to need new knickers. His expression went from intrigued and amused to hot and hungry in a second flat, his eyes darkening toward gold with lust at the effect of the simple little nip.

"I…" Hermione's words died on her lips when his thumb caressed her cheek softly, brushing over her sensitive skin and setting her nerve-endings on fire. Goddess, she was in trouble. His nostrils flared, breathing in more of her scent – more of her attraction and the telling dampness at the pulsing apex of her thighs. She was relatively certain that her face may stay red for the rest of her life.

"Where did you come from,  _gealai_?" Remus murmured, stepping closer to her until he was inside her personal space. It was almost as though he couldn't help it and Hermione breathed in his delicious scent once more. She'd always loved the way he smelled. To be standing before him, so close she could feel the heat radiating from him against her stiffening nipples, and to be able to feel that warmth at all, made her want to cry with joy.

Gods, the nightmares she had of him lying there dead on the floor, his body cold, his scent fading, and his smile gone forever had kept her up half the night. Yet here he stood. Younger. Handsomer. Utterly alive and devastating in his allure. Hermione wanted to fling her arms around him and burrow into his chest while he held her. She wanted to climb him and snog him breathless. She wanted to apparate them both somewhere private and have her way with him.

Most of all she wanted to trace his facial features and the planes of his chest. She wanted to learn every line of his body; to sear them into her memory and hold them in her heart forever.

Her heart was racing inside her chest and her lips were dry; her palms grew sweaty with excitement and she was relatively certain she was panting. His eyes, threaded with bright gold amid the green now, were fixed hungrily on her lips, his fingers still lightly touching them. Hermione had to fight the urge to draw his fingers into her mouth and to lick each fingertip hungrily.

Just as he looked like he might lean in, closing the distance to replace his fingertips with his lips against hers, a sound came from behind her.

"Oi, Moony! Didn't know you were going to be here today, mate." Sirius Black's voice might be the most unwelcome one she'd ever heard. Hermione contemplated hexing him when Remus jerked back from her suddenly, his whole body tensing and his eyes flashing fully gold and then returning to their human shade of green as he stepped back.

The loss of his heat and his touch almost made her stagger and Hermione shivered with cold.

"Sirius?" Remus asked, looking over the top of Hermione's head at the man who'd obviously caught up and spotted that she'd been about to snog his best friend in the middle of the street. As a person of interest to the MLE, she could hardly be allowed to do so. Hermione thought again about hexing Sirius, not even needing to see his face to know he'd interrupted the intimate moment on purpose.

It left her reeling and the pavement beneath her feet seemed to sway and shift precariously as she tried to regain her equilibrium. She felt like she needed new knickers, a shot of firewhiskey, and maybe a good half-hour spent indulging her fantasies somewhere private just too cool off.

Scrubbing both of her clammy palms against the front of her jeans, Hermione looked at her feet. Idly she noticed that Remus's shoes look like they'd been polished within an inch of their life. The idea amused her for some reason and a small giggle escaped her mouth.

She needed to get away. She was in no state of mind to deal with Sirius and she didn't doubt he was going to use her encounter with Remus to wheedle an introduction out of her to pass on to Kingsley. The idea didn't sit well, even if Remus would share her identity with him when she was gone. She was much too annoyed with Sirius right then to be introduced and much too lightheaded with desire for Remus to think clearly.

Side-stepping around the apparently dazed werewolf who was still watching Sirius approach, Hermione almost got past him before his hand shot out and caught her wrist. She glanced at the grip he had on her in surprise. Remus had always been very controlled in his actions whenever he had to touch someone. Indeed, he avoided doing so unless absolutely necessary. To feel his fingertips caressing the inside of her wrist like that made her breathless and giddy all over again.

"Don't go," he said softly.

Hermione gave him a small smile, knowing she needed to leave before she could do something stupid.

"It was… thrilling… to meet you," Hermione whispered in return, quivering a little even as she pulled her wrist free of his gentle grip. She gave him a long, searching look, her smile still in place as she drank in the sight of him. "I've got to go. But maybe we'll meet again one day."

With that, she slipped away into the crowd.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

She missed the morning interviews at the apothecary. Indeed, she spent an inordinate amount of time inside the bookshop, limply holding a book in her lap as she tried to recover her equilibrium. Her feet had subconsciously carried her into Flourish and Blotts, where she'd randomly picked a book from the shelf before trailing to a little-used chair in the corner and staring at the pages without really seeing them.

Hermione felt like she'd been hexed with an Air-Head charm or perhaps like a wrackspurt had fluttered into her brain and made it go fuzzy. She'd met Remus and she couldn't stop thinking about him all over again. He was alive. It was... surreal. Hermine felt like she'd stepped into an alternate universe rather than the past. He was young and handsome, and he'd looked like he was going to kiss her. She couldn't stop thinking about the desire in his gaze when she'd nipped his fingers. She needed to think. She hadn't come back this far with the intention of seducing him as a means of protecting him from the future that was coming. Had she?

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Hermione blinked, noticing someone's shoes in her peripheral vision.

"Yes?" she asked, lifting her head. The owner of the shop was eyeing her warily.

"I'm trying to close up for lunch," the man said. "I need you to leave if you're not going to buy anything."

Hermione blinked.

"Close?" she asked, he brow furrowing. "But surely, you'd do your best business over the lunch hour, wouldn't you, sir?"

The man looked uncomfortable.

"Aye, that's true. But I've an appointment to meet and it's unavoidable since my shop-girl went and got herself knocked up, so I've got to close."

"I could run the shop for you while you're gone," Hermione offered immediately.

"You?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow sceptically.

"Yes. Oh, I should introduce myself," Hermione blushed, leaping to her feet and startling the elderly shop owner. She straightened her jacket and offered him her hand to shake. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm looking for a position and I'd love to be considered as a shop assistant to you, Mr Blott."

"You know who I am?" he asked.

"Of course, I do," Hermione said, shaking his hand excitedly when he took hers. "You're the owner, else you wouldn't be talking about staffing and wouldn't be asking me to leave so you can lock up over your busiest hour of the day."

He eyed her like she might be a little bit mad.

"Now, I want you to know, I do have experience working in a bookshop. I used to have a steady summer job in a shop in muggle London, but the place was sold on when the owner died and so I'm in the market for a new position."

"You seem awfully perky given that you've been sitting here for two hours staring at nothing," he commented.

Hermione blushed.

"Right. Yes. That. Sorry. I had a little bit of an encounter this morning with someone and it rattled me a little more than I'd have liked. Nothing unpleasant, mind. Just a surprise. I'd believed this friend to be dead after losing contact and so seeing him again was a shock. I didn't mean to monopolize your couches here and I am intending to buy this book."

The man seemed almost as amused as Remus had been when Hermione realised she was rambling again. She began to wonder if the Time Travel had scrambled her brains.

"You've worked in a bookshop?"

"I have. Not a magical one, but I'm a witch, obviously, so I've been reading magical books all my life and know how to handle them. If you don't mind my asking, are you interested in hiring anyone, or am I wasting my time?"

She could tell by the look on his face that he was interested in hiring someone, but that he didn't trust her to leave her in the shop right then.

"I have been considering hiring a replacement for Mafalda," he mused. "How much responsibility can you handle, Hermione Granger?"

"As much as you need to me handle, sir," Hermione shrugged. "Before my last job ended, I was running things from a managerial level, handling rosters, hiring and firing, in charge of order shipments and wages. I know what I'm doing."

He still looked on the fence about it and Hermione smiled encouragingly.

"I know it's hard to consider hiring a replacement soon after losing a valued employee, Mr Blott. And I know the notion of hiring someone on the spot and leaving for your appointment must be daunting. If you'd like to give me a probationary trial, I'd be happy to submit to Anti-Theft charms while you attend your appointment. If it helps keep the business open, I don't mind."

The man looked a little more secure at the idea.

"Alright then," he nodded. "A trial. We'll see how you handle things while I'm out, under charm, and if you do well, I'll give you the job."

"Excellent. You won't regret it, sir. I promise." Hermione smiled.

He pulled his wand and rapped her over the head with it, charming her person against leaving the shop with anything from within that she hadn't paid for. Hermione shivered at the feel of the magic washing over her.

"Right, come over and I'll show you how to ring everything up before I go," he nodded.

Hermione smiled as he showed her the cash register and the manual system for recording each item sold within the shop. She was already thinking of how to streamline the process by the time he left and when her first wave of customers for the lunch rush arrived, she had a quill charmed to take down the title, author and serial number along with the name of the buyer, the date of the sale, and the price they paid. Like a Quick-Quotes Quill, it dashed out everything vital without her needing to pay attention to it, allowing her more time to focus on making a sale.

Indeed, she talked one wizard into buying the entire collection of  _Wanda Wilkes, The Wandering Witch_  novels rather than just one, assuring him that he wouldn't be able to put the series down until it was complete. Another witch was convinced to try three different books to best conquer an unruly household mess rather than skimping on one to see if it would work. Hermione made sure to direct her to the best ones after ascertaining the nature of the problem. Indeed, she was having so much fun making her sales that she almost didn't spot Sirius loitering in the back of the shop, still observing her.

Almost.

A smirk flirted with her lips as she flicked her wand toward a section of tomes on self-defence and basic Auror training guides. She was in the process of helping a mildly distraught young mother with three kids under seven swinging from her and another on the way, to find a selection of books on raising magical children and how to keep them all well-fed when she heard Sirius begin to laugh. She'd levitated a number of books in his direction, causing them to bump into him gently, demanding to be read. It had been a risk. If he'd been offended by the suggestion, he might've had cause to press charges for assaulting an MLE officer, but Hermione had relied on her knowledge of Sirius as a reckless prankster who found humour in most things.

When she sent the woman and her sticky children on their way - each child clutching a new book of their own in addition to the ones the witch had bought on raising her family, Hermione approached Sirius. She was in a much better mood and suspected that he wasn't going to go away until she spoke with him.

"Was there a particular book I can help you with today, officer?" Hermione asked, righting a stack of books that had been toppled by the rowdy children she'd just hustled out of the shop as she approached.

"You know I'm with the MLE?" Sirius asked, flicking his wand to send the books hovering around him back to their shelves.

"You've been tailing me for hours as I conduct my business in Diagon Alley, so I certainly hope you're an Auror and not a stalker," she shrugged.

"And if I  _am_  a stalker?" he raised one eyebrow, smirking wickedly.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave until you are more appropriately garbed for the job."

Sirius laughed. "In my experience, stalkers wear short dresses and platform shoes," he replied.

Hermione grinned.

"Exactly, you're hardly dressed for the job, Auror…?" she trailed off, waiting for him to supply his name.

"Don't pretend you don't know who I am, witch," he warned, turning a take-away coffee mug and revealing the scrawl of the waitress she'd asked to pass her message.

"Nonetheless, I believe it's important that you introduce yourself for the sake of identifying as a man of the law rather than a plucky lout looking to follow me home and ruffle my feathers. I'd hate to later get off on a technicality for assaulting you should you fail to announce your position before manhandling me if I prove to be of suspicious character."

"Know a bit about the law, do you? Been in trouble before?"

Hermione grinned at the way he fished for details.

"Might've been. You'll never know if you don't introduce yourself, Sirius."

"It seems you know me, though I don't remember seeing you around before."

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him before offering him her hand to shake. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Sirius eyed her hand for a moment before he shook it.

"Sirius Black, MLE."

Hermione realised too late that she'd offered him the arm that Bellatrix had carved the word 'Mudblood'. Something he noticed and drew attention to by refusing to release her hand and reaching for her with his free hand as well.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded in a low voice, gripping her elbow.

"No one you can arrest for doing so," Hermione sighed. "I appreciate your concern, but as you can see, they're hardly fresh. There's nothing you can do to undo the event, so I'd appreciate it if you released me, Sirius."

"This is a hate-crime," Sirius argued. "If you file a report, I can prosecute whoever did it to you."

Hermione smiled sadly as she looked into his fierce grey eyes, suddenly filled with concern and outrage on her behalf rather than the suspicion he'd been levelling at her since he'd spotted her hurrying to the bank. The idea that the man she'd known, dead so long to her until this moment, could be as reckless and as compassionate at twenty and he'd been at thirty-six made her heart ache.

"Rest assured that the person who did this to me will get what's coming to them in due course," Hermione said.

"Taking the law into your own hands isn't the answer, treasure," Sirius warned, and Hermione's heart broke a little at the familiar endearment upon his tongue. During the time she'd spent sharing living space with him at Grimmauld Place, he'd always called her 'Treasure'. Ginny had been called 'Pet' and Tonks caught the occasional 'love' but he'd always called Hermione 'Treasure'.

"I would never dream of it," Hermione replied, smiling sweetly as she lied through her teeth. "I don't want to press charges, officer. I know that with a face like that, you're not used to being told no, but I must insist. Trust me, the comeuppance for the person who did this to me will be well and truly justified and I shan't lift a finger."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, obviously not believing her.

"At least tell me who did it?" he tried to bargain, fixing her one of his winning smiles that she did not doubt had talked a good many witches out of their knickers.

"I can't do that, Sirius. Please, leave it be. Now, was there a reason you were following me – poorly, I might add. I made you as a tail the minute you started following me on my way to the bank."

"You gave me the slip on purpose," he accused, releasing her when she pulled her hand free of his grip. Hermione tugged her sleeve down to hide the scar, making a mental note to put a glamour over it in future.

"I stopped for ice-cream," Hermione corrected, grinning at him.

"At nine in the morning? Only people who're bonkers stop for ice-cream before breakfast."

"I like to challenge social-norms," Hermione shrugged. "Haven't you ever heard the saying that life is short, so eat dessert first?"

"You're a quirky one, aren't you Granger?" he lifted one eyebrow at her.

"I prefer 'unique'," Hermione smiled.

"What were you doing with Moony that you had to run away so quickly?" Sirius asked, frowning at her.

"Moony?" she feigned ignorance.

"Remus. The lad you were chatting to in the street after colliding with him," Sirius said. "How is it you know who I am and not who Moony is? Were you at Hogwarts with us? You look our age."

"I…" Hermione hesitated, thinking on her feet and wondering how much she ought to disclose. She would have to lie. "I was a year ahead of you, I think."

She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't ask who she was, what house she'd been in and why he didn't recall her.

"Gryffindor?" he asked. "I don't remember seeing you in the Tower."

"I honestly spent most of my time holed up in the library. I was very dedicated to my studies," Hermione said, not even lying about that. "You wouldn't have seen me or paid me any mind. No one else did."

"Wallflower, eh?" he asked. "I reckon I'd have remembered seeing the likes of you in my Common Room…"

"You did drunkenly try to hit on me after a Quidditch match, once," Hermione offered, lying again.

"Did you take me up on it?" he frowned.

"How loose are you that you don't even know that?" Hermione began to laugh in spite of herself, especially when he had the decency to look mildly bashful for a moment. "No, I wasn't interested in being a notch on your bedpost – and don't give me that look, I heard all about the actual notches you made in your bedpost during your years at Hogwarts, Sirius Black. You and your little friends were famous throughout the school."

"If you were in the library so much, you probably recognised Moony. He was always holed up in there whenever he wasn't with us."

"Oh, I recall Remus just fine," Hermione smirked, letting appreciation for fine man-flesh slip into her tone. "Though he didn't remember me. I didn't exactly socialise. Strict parents very interested in ensuring I excelled in the muggle and magical world, you know?"

"That right? Got a thing for Moony, do you?" Sirius smirked. "Reckon he was pretty beguiled after knocking into you back there, actually. So, what's the deal, you work here?"

He looked around the room.

"I just began, on a probationary basis while Mr Blott attends an appointment. He's going to consider hiring me when he gets back based on how well I look after the shop while he's out. Which, incidentally, brings me back to my original reason for approaching. Now that you've ascertained that I'm not a shady character likely to start a duel in the Alley, can you clear off? You might be great eye-candy to lure the ladies in here, so I can sell things to them in their distraction, but I don't want Mr Blott refusing to hire me because I have the MLE doing a bad job of tailing me."

"A bad job? I followed you all the way up the alley and back."

"And I knew you were there the entire time. You're too pretty not to draw attention and you were too obvious as you skulked after me. You walked right into a cabbage cart. If I  _had_  been planning anything shady, I'd have spotted you and refrained from committing any kind of crime immediately."

"You  _do_  look like a criminal, in my defence," he said, his cheeks turning pink at her summation and the mention of his cabbage cart catastrophe.

"No, I look tired and like I haven't had a decent meal in a while," Hermione corrected him.

"You were acting shifty on your way to the bank."

"I had something valuable in my possession that needed to be put in my vault and I didn't want anyone to mug me," Hermione argued.

"What kind of valuable?"

"Is this becoming an interrogation?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Well… no, but answer the question."

"My mother's jewels, if you must know. She and my father were both killed in a car-accident recently and they bequeathed everything to me, their only daughter. I was worried someone might mug me before I could lock them safely in my vault."

"Why wouldn't you just take them home with you?" he frowned.

"Well, I had to sell the house and… well, everything, really," Hermione frowned, feigning pain over non-existent scenarios. "They had opened a dental practice not long ago and they were still in a good deal of debt as a result. With them both dead, I was left in a tight spot on that front. So, I don't actually  _have_ a home to keep my valuables in, right now."

"You're orphaned  _and_ homeless?" he asked, looking stricken. "Bloody hell, treasure. No wonder you look like you've been through hell. Where are you looking to live?"

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "There were a few places for let being advertised in the  _Daily Prophet_  this morning. I'll have a look at them and see if anything takes my fancy, I suppose."

"Let me see," Sirius said, frowning at her all the more as he crossed the shop to the counter where she'd set down her newspaper. She hadn't been game enough to set down her beaded bag, but she'd managed to stuff it into her pocket so she wouldn't be eyed strangely for not relaxing in her new position.

"You're really not helping my cause to get this job, Black," Hermione frowned at him when he picked up the paper.

"Hush, witch. You look like you need some peace and quiet and like you don't have a clue which neighbourhoods to avoid. You serve your customers and let me handle the flat hunting, yeah?"

"This seems to be going above and beyond the line of duty, Sirius. Don't you have crime to be stopping?"

"Nah, I'm still in training," he told her, waving her away as he picked up a quill at the desk and began scratching out some of the ones Hermione had circled.

She couldn't think of any way to get rid of him without being rude, and so Hermione simply turned her attention to helping a jumpy seeming chap looking for information on werewolves.


	4. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

_Sunday, 11_ _th_ _November, 1979_

**Flourish & Blotts Bookshop, London**

"What is going on here?" Mr Blott asked when he came back later that afternoon – well after the lunch rush had ebbed and the afternoon was beginning to teeter on evening.

He looked rather a mess, actually. Hermione frowned at him. She could smell that he'd been smoking, and drinking, and he looked a bit like he'd been in a scuffle, too.

"Mr Blott, you've returned," Hermione smiled at him widely. "How was your appointment?"

The wizard frowned at her for a long moment.

"Bloody bollocks, it was," he grumbled. Hermione watched him stomp over to the counter, intent on checking the ledger to see how many books she'd sold while he'd been gone. "Divorced! She wants to get bloody divorced!"

Hermione frowned.

"Your wife, sir?" Hermione asked softly, frowning.

"Aye. My bloody wife. She's been screwing her bloody boss and now she wants a bloody fucking divorce!" He thumped a fist on the bench in fury. "And what the bloody fuck is this? You sold all these while I was gone?"

He flipped through three pages worth of ledger listings for all the books she'd sold while he'd been gone.

"I… yes, I did."

"This is more than a hundred books in a few hours, girl. On a bloody weekday in the middle of the academic year. I don't usually sell this many in a week!" he protested. "Even when Mafalda was here, we didn't sell this many outside of peak season before Hogwarts went into session. What did you do? How did you sell so many?"

"Oh. Well, I just offered them additional research and materials on whatever they were looking for, sir. I asked them what they were after, what they were trying to achieve and what they'd already tried and then I made my recommendations from there. Primarily you stock textbooks and grimoires, so I merely pointed people in the direction of what I found to be best for their problem."

"But…you've sold everything here from outlandish tomes on werewolves to cookbooks and potion recipes. You've sold novels, too. What happened?"

"I… I'm very well read, Mr Blott," Hermione admitted. "In all honesty, I want the job more than anything because I adore books. I love reading and I like to encourage it in others. I also like to help people find the best thing to help them with what they need by giving them as wide a view as possible on the topic of their research. The chap asking after werewolf information had no idea about the conflicting tomes written by prejudiced hunters or how they compared to bibliographies written by people suffering lycanthropy and so I made sure he'd be fully informed."

"You talked someone into buying one hundred and seventy galleons worth of books just on werewolves?" he scoffed.

"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded. "The chap was very interested when I pointed out the difference of opinion, the disputation of fact and the overall need for wider research. He bought a number of potion books too, see?"

She pointed to the ledger.

"Eighty more on potions books, including a rare book. Bloody hell, girl!" Mr Blott exclaimed. "You're going to run me out of stock by the end of the week if you keep this up."

Hermione blushed.

"Does that mean I've got the job?" she asked.

"What kind of salary are you looking for and how many hours can you do?" he asked.

"Well, enough to get by," Hermione frowned. "What did you pay the last shop girl?"

"Mafalda was on three Galleons an hour," he told her, "It's a little lower than what the other shops pay, mind you, but she was living in the flat above the shop before she shacked up with her beau and her board was factored into her salary."

"Is the flat empty now?" Hermione asked, barely trusting a hope.

"Aye, it is. Why? You want it?"

"I… well, yes. Especially if you'll let me have the job too," Hermione said.

Mr Blott managed a half smile.

"If you're turning over this much business in a few hours, I reckon you might deserve a bit more than three Galleons an hour, girl," he said. "And if I can be completely honest, I'm about to be tied up in a legal mess over this bloody divorce and hardly the best boss. How many hours can you do? Full time?"

"You run the shop between nine in the morning and seven at night, don't you?" Hermione asked.

"Currently. Been quiet lately though. I cut the hours a bit since Mafalda quit."

"Would you be willing to entertain opening for longer?" Hermione asked.

"How many hours do you want, girl. There's only you and me running the place."

"But you could potentially hire someone else on a causal basis. Only, my past experience has taught me that while regular business hours cater to every day folk looking for a book to read on their lunch break or to handle a problem, the bookworms of the world keep odd hours. The number of times I find myself wishing I had access to a book at nine or ten in the evening when I finish one and want to next in a series or I want to read a recommended book for a wider view on my research but can't because the shops are closed ought to be criminal."

"Ain't real safe opening too late, love," Mr Blott scratched idly at his pot belly. "The Alley might be well protected, but there's dodgy folk about. I wouldn't want to leave you exposed and unprotected that late here by yourself. Not with the riff-raff leaving the pubs and looking for love in the wrong places and such."

"I assure you that I can handle myself, Mr Blott, but I do see your point. Would you consider extending the hours just a bit, opening nine until nine? Or perhaps seven until seven? Or maybe initiating an after-hours postal order service. I'd be happy to handle it and I know that students at Hogwarts, in particular, would thank you for it. Or… well, I would've when I was a student."

"Ravenclaw, were you?" he smiled, his eyes crinkling a little.

"Gryffindor, actually. But I'm a know-it-all bookworm at heart."

"If you're willing to handle it, you draw up a proposal for it and we'll take a look, alright. We'll run an advert in the papers and see what happens. You're happy with full-time, then? If you're doing after-hours work with order processing you need more money. Five galleons an hour plus your board upstairs sound fair?"

Hermione's eyes lit up. The equivalent of twenty-five pounds an hour sounded beyond brilliant.

"I'm certain that hugging you exuberantly would be improper, but I'm in danger of it, sir," Hermione admitted.

The man chuckled.

"You're a funny little thing, witch," he told her fondly. "What say I show you where everything goes, how were handle the ordering for more stock and the labelling for the books and… ah, bloody hell."

He trailed off on his offer when a witch flung open the door of the shop and stormed inside. Hermione's wand was drawn before the door even banged against the wall and Blott shot her a startled look.

"Though she bloody deserves it, she's my wife, girl. Don't hex her," he muttered, and Hermione tucked her wand away once more.

"Billius Blott, you wretched bastard! How  _dare_  you?" the woman screeched as she blew into the bookshop like a tempest in a teacup.

"Tell you what, Granger? You take this key for that flat upstairs and get yourself settled for the afternoon. You don't need to see this."

Hermione took the key he gave her while the man's wife stormed inside and flung the door closed behind her.

"Stairs are over there," he nodded her to a door at the back of the shop. "The flat is on the top floor above the three tiers of the shop. Take a look and see what you think of it and what you might need. Go on out the back to get to the street so you don't have to see this."

Hermione did as she was told when the man's wife began flinging books at him and screeching about how he'd gone and announced to the entire patronage at the Leaky Cauldron that she was a cheating bitch and wanted a divorce. She hurried up the stairs, so she wouldn't have to witness the fight, focusing her attention on turning the lock in the key when she reached the door at the very top of the stairs.

When she opened the door to the flat, Hermione didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't what she found. Indeed, she'd been imagining vague notions about a dingy little studio apartment, a single-room box with the kitchen and laundry all in the same space as the bedroom. But that wasn't what she got. Hermione's jaw dropped open at the sight of the cosy living room and kitchen she could see from the doorway. They weren't enormous by any stretch of the imagination, but Undetectable Extension charms had obviously been put to use on the flat.

There was a long wall of arched glass widows that looked out over the alley, one with an inbuilt window seat. Hermione grinned at the idea. She'd always wanted a window seat. Like most magical residences, it had a large hearth big enough to Floo through and though it was bare of furniture, Hermione could easily imagine covering the walls with bookshelves and squashing in a few couches.

She found herself turning to grin over her shoulder at Harry before remembering that Harry wasn't there to share in the excitement of decorating her own place – something they'd whiled away hours discussing when they shared a dingy tent for months of end. Sadness filled her for a moment, waves of grief washing over her at the notion that she would never share such a thing with Harry again, but she pushed it away as she pushed inside the flat. He might not be there to enjoy it with her, but Hermione would be damned if she wasn't going to include all the little homey touches and things she and Harry had daydreamed up.

An inspection of the kitchen showed that it was perfectly serviceable, if a little dingy. Hermione flicked her wand to make a few adjustments, uncertain if Mr Blott would mind, but doubting it as long as she improved things. She extended the bench a little further, and widened the entire space to make more room just in case she ever had visitors to cook for. Further perusal showed the flat boasted three good sized bedroom and a small but serviceable bathroom with a separate loo.

She already had plans to use the main bedroom for herself, pop a spare bed in the second bedroom with vague hopes of overnight guests or even a flatmate, and the third she would turn into a training room. She expanded the space of the third bedroom with a flick of her wands before conjuring practice dummies that would be her duelling opponents. This was hardly the time to lose the edge so long on the run and so much war-time training had bought her.

"I need furniture," Hermione muttered to herself. "And someone or something to talk to so that I don't go mad by myself."

Having determined the space at hand, Hermione left the flat via a second door that led to some back steps. They wound down and around the back of the bookshop, letting out in a small and mostly unnoticeable nook on street level.

"Muggle London for furniture," she muttered to herself before disapparating with a crack.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Two hours later Hermione was hurrying back through the Leaky Cauldron with her purchases all shrunken down and secreted away in her purple beaded bag. She hadn't had time for more than the essentials, but she'd managed to get herself a bed, a closet, a dining table, a couch and some armchairs.

"Oomph," Hermione grunted in surprise when she ploughed right into someone whilst fishing for her house-key.

Jerking her wand up on the culprit and getting annoyed with herself for paying such poor attention to her surroundings, Hermione blinked in surprise to find herself staring at Harry Potter.

"Blimey," the man said, and Hermione experienced a strong sense of discombobulation when the voice coming out of Harry's mouth was not the one that should be.

Not Harry.  _James_. James Charlus Potter.

"Oh, dear," Hermione whispered, noticing that in bumping into James, he'd just spilled a pint all over himself. "I'm terribly sorry, are you alright?"

James blinked at her in reply.

"Who are you?" he asked, frowning at her.

"I… well, I hardly see how that's relevant when I'm attempting to apologise for crashing into you and causing you to spill your beer. I'm terribly sorry."

"Got a habit of crashing into people, don't you Granger?" an aristocratic voice came from behind her and Hermione spun so quickly that James caught a face-full of unruly curls. Her wand still drawn, she aimed it on Sirius before she recognised him.

"Bloody hell, Black! Don't sneak up on me!" Hermione hissed when his eyes widened and dropped to her wand dangerously. She lowered the weapon before he could think to arrest her.

"Jumpy little thing, aren't you?" he asked. "What are you doing here? Other than smashing into James like he stole your teapot?"

"My teapot? Really?" Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I wasn't paying attention and was attempting to apologise."

"You know this bird, Pads?" James asked.

"Aye, I was tailing her while I was on duty earlier. You alright, mate? You're going to need another pint. Oi, Hermione, join us, yeah?"

"Oh, no I couldn't possibly…" she trailed off when Remus appeared to see what all the fuss was about. They flanked her on three sides and her heart rate kicked into high gear at the sight of Remus. Unlike earlier, when he'd looked well put together and ready for an interview, he now looked much more relaxed. His tie hung loose about his neck and his top buttons were undone to reveal a hint of the scarred flesh beneath his shirt. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it and he was grinning and laughing at James's expense.

"You alright there, Prongs?" he teased, not paying her any mind. Hermione caught the way Sirius smirked at the fact that she couldn't take her eyes off Remus. "Bloody hell, mate. You'd think you get your showers often enough at home. No need to take 'em in public, too."

"Piss off, Moony, or you'll wear the next one I buy you," James retorted. "Listen, Miss. I reckon you owe me a drink."

"I'll give you a drying charm," Hermione bargained immediately.

"Nah, she's having a drink with us, lads," Sirius said. "What's your hurry, Granger? Did you get a flat yet? I've got a bed you can crawl into for the night."

"Honestly, Sirius I'd rather not risk whatever I'd likely catch coming out the other side of  _that_  particular experience," Hermione said without thinking. James looked at her blankly for a moment before his expression lit into one of hilarity at Sirius's shocked expression.

"Bloody hell, witch! Just for that  _I'll_  shout you a round. She's got your number, Pads. Who are you, woman?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione sighed, unable to resist the familiarity when James slung an arm around her shoulders. "And you would be…?"

"Blimey, being rude, aren't I? Name's James Potter, love," James said, offering her his free hand to shake without releasing her.

Hermione shook her head even as she shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you. Not to deter you from what I don't doubt is usually an affectionate hug, but you reek of beer, Potter," Hermione told him.

"Your fault, Granger. Come on, what are you drinking? You want a pint or are you too girly, like my Lily flower?"

"Wine, if they have it," she sighed. "Something red and sweet."

Hermione glanced over at Remus to find him watching her.

"Hello, again," she smiled at the werewolf.

"Hello. I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon," Remus replied, smiling wickedly at her.

"You know this bird too, Moony?" James asked before ordering more drinks from Tom.

"We met earlier when I accidentally tried to bowl him over in the alley," Hermione said. "And I met Sirius doing a poor job of stalking me for suspicious activity."

"You up to no good, love?" James grinned pressing a glass of red into her hand and steering her toward the booth they'd been sharing. Hermione didn't miss the way James nodded her in first to shuffle around the circular booth while Sirius pushed Remus in from the other side so that he'd have to sit next to her.

"I was going to the bank," Hermione said. "I really am sorry for crashing into you, James. Can I just…?"

She wiggled her fingers, practicing her wandless magic to keep the muggles from seeing as she freshened and dried James's shirt so he wouldn't go home to Lily stinking of hops.

"Blimey. Thanks," James grinned. "You better be careful doing that with muggles in here."

Hermione waved away his concern.

"I never did finish apologising to you either, Remus. I'm sorry about this morning."

"I'm not," Remus replied boldly, surprising Hermione.

"We're actually here to celebrate Moony getting the job he interviewed for this morning," Sirius told her, smirking at the way Hermione's cheeks went pink the longer she stared at Remus, who was grinning at her like she amused him.

"Oh really? Congratulations, that's wonderful. Where are you working?" Hermione asked him.

"It's nothing exciting. I got a job a Pottage's Cauldron shop," he admitted, downplaying the job even though she suspected he was stoked about it. Given how many jobs he tended to lose, she supposed it would be a thrill every time he got a new one.

"That's wonderful," Hermione smiled encouragingly. "You'll be just down the alley from me.

"Oh, yeah?" Remus asked.

"Blott gave you the job, eh?" Sirius grinned.

"And board is part of the deal," Hermione grinned widely. "So, though I'd have turned down the notion of crawling into bed with you regardless, I don't actually need anywhere to stay tonight, Black. But thanks for asking."

"He's putting you up, too?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah. The top floor of the shop is a flat. My board is part of my salary. I've just been out buying furniture, actually. I should really get back and set up so I'll have somewhere to sleep tonight rather than making a bed on the floor."

"Nonsense," James said. "You got a new job, too. Drinks all around!"

Hermione began to suspect James Potter had already had a few when he sloshed beer toasting the success of Remus and Hermione.

"Congratulations on the job. I didn't know Flourish and Blotts were hiring," Remus said quietly, sliding slightly closer to her on the bench when someone else arrived and plonked himself down on the end of their booth next to Sirius.

Peter Pettigrew was nothing like Hermione had expected. She'd seen pictures, a long time ago, that Sirius had kept of their Marauding days at Hogwarts and Peter had been blond, pudgy and squinty-eyed. Similarly, what she recalled of him as a grown man had been a plump, pathetic man prone to cringing and cowardice. The man sitting on the end of the row, however, looked every bit a Marauder.

He was taller than her, though shorter than both Sirius and Remus. He'd lost his baby fat and not yet spent twelve years as a rat gorging on Molly Weasley's cooking. His hair was thick and a vivid shade of golden blond, styled in an unfortunate eighties look bordering on a mullet, but he carried himself with a quiet assurance for all his impending cowardice.

"Wormtail! Took you long enough! Where the bloody hell have you been, mate?" James asked. "We waited awhile for you, but we got thirsty."

He slid a pint toward Peter.

"Granger, this is Pete, you probably remember him from school. Wormtail, this is Hermione Granger."

Peter looked over at her and Hermione didn't like the shifty, calculating look in his eyes for all that his mouth smiled brightly in greeting.

"How're you doing, Hermione?" Peter asked, offering her his hand to shake.

Hermione eyed it like it were a live snake, wrestling with the urge to pull her wand and murder him where he sat. When she reached to shake his hand before she could give herself away, her arm trembled with barely restrained rage.

"Fine, thanks," Hermione said, not wanting to speak to him any more than necessary. She suspected from the way Remus stiffened beside her that he could smell her fury and even Sirius cocked his head slightly, darting a glance between her and Peter.

"You went to Hogwarts?" Remus asked, letting it go rather than giving away his heightened sense of smell.

"Oh, yes. I did. The year ahead of you lot," Hermione lied.

"No way," James said. "What house? I don't remember seeing you around."

"Gryffindor," Hermione said in a small voice.

"You lived in Gryffindor Tower while we were there?" Remus asked.

"Please don't also express your shock as though you didn't see me, either," Hermione sighed, feigning a glum mood at the notion in the hopes that they would buy her story. "Sirius already did a fine job of making me feel like an invisible wallflower despite once drunkenly propositioning me in my final year."

"I never saw you there," Peter said tactlessly, and Hermione winced.

Sirius smacked him in the back of the head.

"Hey! What was that for?" the rat protested.

"Being a git," Sirius said.

Remus was eyeing her strangely and Hermine suspected he doubted her story but didn't want to make her feel bad by saying he didn't remember seeing her there, either.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I spent most of my time hiding in the library with my nose buried in my books and avoiding my roommates. It's hardly a shock that none of you noticed me or remembered me."

"Sorry, love," James shrugged. "More drinks! Pete, your shout."

"I just got here!" Peter protested.

"You were late. Don't pout that we started without you. Come on, I'll help you carry them." James jumped out of his seat and hauled Peter off to the bar.

"He's going to get loose tonight," Remus warned.

"He and Lily had another tiff," Sirius shrugged. "She's got her knickers in a twist after what happened at my party."

"That was five days ago."

Five? Hermione frowned before remembering that the full moon had fallen smack on the day of Sirius's birthday.

"It was a week night and he talked her into sleeping over. Pretty sure he shagged her, too. And she got in some trouble at work for being so hungover."

"Sleeping over?" Hermione frowned. "Aren't those two married yet?"

Sirius laughed.

"Nah, Lily's being contrary about the proposal since he's asked so many times since he was twelve that she can't tell he's being serious when he asks her to be his wife," Remus explained.

"Right. Well, I suppose that makes sense," Hermine muttered before taking a big gulp of her wine.

"You're taking him home," Remus warned Sirius. "I consoled him the last time he got fall-down drunk and sobbed about Lily."

"Nah, it's Wormtail's turn," Sirius asked.

"Wormtail's too cranky with his job and got too much on his plate with his Mum not being well. He doesn't need a late one when he's got work in the morning," Remus argued.

"We all live in the same bloody flat, you lot will have to put up with him as much as I will."

"Take him to Dorea and Charlus. Maybe they can talk some sense into him before he does something stupid, like ambush Lily's flat with those love-cherubs again," Remus shrugged. "She'll kill him if she has to put up with him tonight and she's late for work again in the morning."

"I wish she'd stop screwing around and just marry the idiot. He's a right git when they fight."

"He's always a git," Remus laughed. "And tonight he's your responsibility. I have a job to look decent for in the morning and I bloody won't if James is crawling into bed with me at half four in the morning to lament Lily's supposed lack of love."

"I've got training in the morning," Sirius protested.

Hermione chuckled softly to herself watching them argue who would look after him. Across the bar James was making an arse of himself looking like he was attempting to play wing-man for Peter.

"Is he chatting up that witch in her fifties?" Hermione asked.

"Ah, hell," Sirius groaned. "I hate when he gets it in his head to set us all up to be besotted berks like him."

"That witch is going to hex him if Wormtail doesn't do it first," Remus laughed.

"Say, Granger? You want him for the night? He's no trouble, honest," Sirius said.

"I doubt I'd be able to keep him in my flat even if I had somewhere to put him. He'd panic and dash out intent on finding Evans if he ends up in a strange woman's apartment."

"Probably true," Sirius complained. "Bloody git. Ah, bugger they're coming back."

"I should go," Hermione protested, beginning to slide out of the booth.

"Stay," Remus said, reaching for her. "You should celebrate getting a job and a flat. Just ignore James."

Hermione looked back at him, drinking in the sight of him. So young. So alive. So happy.

"Go on," he smiled enticingly when she hesitated. "Just one more drink."

Hermione pressed her lips together to hide her smile.

"Just one," she agreed, feeling a flutter inside her chest at Remus's triumphant grin.


	5. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

_Sunday, 11th November, 1979_

**The Leaky Cauldron, London**

"What do you mean you don't see the bloody point?" Remus drunkenly demanded six hours and several pints later. "Krosnakovich argues that any magical creature incapable of rational, sentient thought processes  _must_  be classed as a Beast. You can't argue that that Giant Squid is sentient! It's listed a class XXXXX leviathan, right up there with dragons."

"I'm telling you that the Giant Squid at Hogwarts is sentient. It might not be able to speak a language that we, as humans, understand and interpret, but it is capable of more than mindless violence or prey instinct. The number of first years who fall in that lake every year on the crossing from the platform that are rescued by the Giant Squid is astronomical. Would it really propel people back into the boats if it was nothing more than a mindless beast?" Hermione argued hotly, similarly intoxicated and ignoring Tom's approach to kick them all out so he could close down for the night.

"I've never heard of it saving anyone," Remus frowned. "That bloke a few years behind us went swimming in the lake on a dare and the squid flung him back to shore! Maybe it's just territorial and it flings people out of the lake because that's its domain."

Hermione shook her head.

"If that kid had gone out too far and encountered grindylows, the squid might've saved him. It's not safe to swim in the lake, but that Giant Squid it the most playful, sweet creature in there. It's the other creatures you've got to watch out for. The Merepeople and the grindylows are far more dangerous. Now, Grindylows, they class as a beast because they have an unrelenting instinct to kill any who enter their domain. The Merefolk are considered sentient, of course, but they're just as likely to drag unsuspecting swimmers to the depths and force reproduction upon them until they drown, and sometimes even  _after_  they drown. They've been known to eat human flesh too, following their watery seduction."

"Proving Harloquill's theory that not all creatures classed as sentient should be automatically deemed trustworthy. Centaurs are listed as sentient, but also as Beasts for that reason," said Remus.

"Oi, you two!" Sirius nudged them. "Let's move this debate. Bloody hell, Prongs, keep your feet, mate. Wormy, give us a hand, yeah? James is plastered."

"I do need you all to leave so I can close," Tom said.

"Can we get something for the road?" Wormtail slurred.

"You already bought a bottle of firehwhiskey to take with you," Tom pointed out, nodding at the bottle of Firewhiskey clutched in James's hand.

"We need to find Lily," James declared. "Here, lads. We'll apparate. My witch will love me again, you'll see."

Hermione flicked her wand to cast anti Apparation wards to prevent James from splinching himself. He turned on the spot and nothing happened.

"Bloody git," Sirius accused him, hauling James's arm around his shoulders. "You're too bloody drunk to apparate. Me too, probably."

"How are we going to get home?" Peter asked.

"Oi, Granger, didn't you say you got a flat on the Alley? We could use your Floo."

"Oh… um, sure. But be warned, I still don't have my furniture set up," Hermione said.

"Ah, bollocks!" Remus exclaimed beside her, offering her a gentlemanly hand to help her out of her seat. "I forgot we railroaded you on your way home."

"It's fine, Remus," Hermione patted his hand reassuringly. "I've got the essentials in my bag, I'll just set them up when we get there."

"Oi! I'm hungry," James announced at that moment.

"Well, you're out of luck on having me feed you, Potter. I don't even have plates yet."

"Bugger!" James groaned. "Lily always feeds me. I want my bloody witch!"

"Quit moaning, you bloody tosser. Let's get some food and head to Granger's place," Peter grumbled. Hermione slanted a glance in his direction in annoyance at the idea that he would be in her flat too before it occurred to her that she would have to tolerate him. He was a Marauder and if she wanted to be with Remus, she'd have to get along with Peter. At least until she could expose him for a traitor.

"There's a pizza place down the street in muggle London," she said. "Tom, would you mind terribly if we ran out for pizza and then came back through? My flat is in the Alley."

"Fine, fine. But if this lot cause a ruckus, you're all barred for a month," Tom threatened.

"Come on," Hermione pulled on Remus's hand, still holding it out of habit. If he minded, he didn't let on, though he was grinning a little.

"James can't walk that far," Sirius protested. "You two go. Here, take some money and get a few boxes, yeah? I'm bloody starving."

"Sirius, they don't take wizarding currency," Hermione laughed.

"Ah, shit," he said. "So much for that idea. James, you got muggle money on you?"

James grunted and patted his pockets. Sirius fished the man's wallet from his pocket but only came up with galleons and sickles.

"I'll get them," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oi, no. You were homeless this morning. Can't have you paying to feed us. At least take this in recompense."

He handed her a few galleons.

"You have a soft heart under that flirtatious exterior, Sirius Black," Hermione told him. "Get James out into the Alley and toward the bookshop. We'll meet you there. Come on, Remus."

Hermione tugged his hand, pulling him out of the pub and into muggle London.

"Where is this pizza place?" Remus asked, looking up and down the street.

"We have to apparate," Hermione told him.

She felt him tense beside her, suddenly not so trusting despite drinking with her all night.

"You planning to lure me off to be jumped by Death Eaters, Granger?" he asked in a low voice. He pulled his hand out of hers, suddenly seeming far soberer than he'd done moments ago. Hermione frowned at him, realising she was actually rather tipsy.

"Remus Lupin, I take offense to that," Hermione said. "I'd sooner cut off my own head than let you anywhere near a Death Eater."

He frowned in return.

"Why? You hardly know me. How do you know I'm not going to lure  _you_  off somewhere?" he asked.

Hermione actually laughed.

"I suspect you could lure me anywhere you liked. I'd go willingly…wait… oh, bollocks. What have you done to me that I can't control my tongue?" Hermione blushed while Remus suddenly eyed her curiously, heat creeping into his gaze. "Honestly, I'm not usually this much of an idiot or so prone to blurting things out."

"Do I make you nervous?" he asked, tipping his head to one side. Gold threaded through the green of his eyes as he looked at her.

"You make my tummy flutter," Hermione admitted without thinking. She reached for his hand, holding her own out and waiting for him to take it, intent on apparating them to get pizza.

He took hold of her carefully, still watching her closely. Hermione disapparated them both with a crack, landing in a side-street by a pizza place she'd seen when she'd been shopping for furniture. Remus didn't let go of her hand when she started walking toward the shop and Hermione wore a small smile. She knew she was tipsy, and in danger of saying something that would land her in trouble tomorrow, but it felt  _so_  good to be in his presence once more. Even when he'd been married to Tonks, he'd let her lean on him sometimes when they'd both sit up late reading in the library, waiting for Tonks to come home from work when she was on duty.

She'd grown used to pressing into his side with his arm thrown over her shoulders and curled around her middle while they each read different books. She'd missed debating magical theory with him when she'd been on the run with Harry. To have him now, all to herself, made her smile. On one level she felt bad at the idea that her intervention – originally intended to make sure he lived a long and happy life – might prevent him from ever meeting Tonks, let alone marrying her.

It felt like a betrayal to her friendship with Tonks, but there was no going back, and Hermione had always secretly thought Remus simply settled for Tonks, believing no other woman would ever want him thanks to his condition. She intended to make sure that he knew there was one other witch who wanted him like she wanted her next breath.

"I'm still not sure I agree with Drozdov's classification of all super-human species as belonging under the banner of magical creature," Hermione said conversationally when Remus continued to watch her with a little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as though she'd pleased him.

"Why is that?" he asked as they waited for their pizza.

"Well, the classification alienates Veela, Werewolves, and Vampires for what I believe are little more than certain health conditions that need to be catered to through the public health system rather than feared," Hermione said, wanting her stance on his furry little problem out in the open right from the off.

"Health conditions?" he scoffed. "You call a man turning into a rabid monster every full moon nothing more than a health condition? A werewolf on a full moon would rip your throat out without a second thought."

"He'd regret it in the morning," Hermione argued, narrowing her eyes on him slightly. "I don't hold with prejudice, Lupin. Yes, there are certain risks associated with the full moon, but there are potions and other means of containing lycanthropy. A misfortune of birth or an accident should not condemn a man to a life of hatred, prejudice, unemployment or exile. Lycanthropy and Vampirism are conditions and should be catered to the same as any other disability is. You wouldn't fire a man for having one leg, or having a form of social anxiety or something, would you? So why should werewolves be fired for needing to miss a few days of work a month? The rest of the month it's perfectly safe."

Remus was staring at her now.

"The rest of the month  _isn't_  safe. The wolf is still there, inside them. It can rush to the surface and take over at any time. The bodily form might not change, but the personality does."

"Split personality disorder isn't something to fire someone over, and if it were to be considered that way in instances where one or both personalities are violent, the government would pay a disability pension to the afflicted person," Hermione argued. "They wouldn't just be shoved into unemployment, homelessness and exile."

"People with split personality disorder are still people," Remus argued vehemently. "Werewolves are mindless monsters as likely to kill and eat their best friend as to say hello to them."

Hermione smacked him. Her open hand connected, quite hard, with his chest and he blinked at her, shocked.

" _Don't_  ever say that in my hearing again, Remus Lupin," Hermione growled, stepping into his personal space and glaring into his gold-threaded eyes. Remus and Moony both watched her in surprise over her reaction.

"It's the truth," he said quietly.

Hermione smacked him again. "If you truly believe that, you need to be re-educated."

She stomped away from him after that, collecting the pizzas they'd ordered and leaving the shop. Remus trailed along in her wake, shaking his head slightly at her vehemence.

"You truly are a peculiar witch, Hermione Granger," he told her softly.

"I've been called worse. I need to grab a few things in here before we go back." She nodded her head toward the Mom & Pop store on the corner. "I literally don't have anything in my flat right now but a cold-cupboard."

"I'm sorry we waylaid you when you were meant to be getting settling into your new place," he said sincerely.

"I can't say I mind," Hermione smiled at him, handing him the boxes of pizza to carry and grabbing a basket for herself. "The flat might've been set up, but the company would've been lousy."

"What company?" he asked. Hermione grinned over her shoulder at him as she fished a bottle of milk from the fridge.

"Exactly."

"You don't regret spending your evening with four rowdy pisspots?" Remus asked. "Even though we're planning to invade your flat and use your Floo after gorging on pizza. The lads are probably gulping down more of that fire-whiskey, too. They'll be even drunker when we get back."

"Pizza will help soak it all up," Hermione smiled, strolling the aisles for tealeaves, some cups and a teapot. She grabbed a bottle of orange juice and a loaf of bread, margarine and her favourite spreads and sandwich fillers, too.

"I don't envy James come tomorrow," Remus chuckled.

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"He plays for the Arrows, see? He's got training in the morning and he's going to feel like shite."

Hermione laughed as she paid for her items and led the way back out of the shop. She took Remus's arm and disapparated them back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"What about you? Are you excited for you job tomorrow?" she asked him.

"It's hardly an exciting position, selling cauldrons. Mostly I'll be cataloguing stock, I imagine. In other words, it'll be dead boring, but it'll pay the bills," he shrugged his shoulders as they hurried through the pub, thanking Tom for waiting for them before going through and into the Alley.

"Ah, bloody hell," Remus laughed when he spotted Sirius and Peter supporting James, who looked to be passed out or asleep.

"What took so bloody long?" Sirius demanded when he spotted them. His free hand held the open bottle of fire-whiskey they'd obviously been drinking from.

"It was a bit of a walk. Are you two going to be able to get him up the stairs to the top?" Hermione asked, hurrying up the stairs to her flat on the top.

"Levitation charm will do the trick," Peter said, flicking his wand. James floated up the steps like a helium balloon with Sirius holding one of his arms.

Hermione hurried to unlock the door at the top and to let them into the room. She set her groceries down on the kitchen bench before digging into her beaded bag for the furniture she'd purchased.

"You weren't kidding about it being bare in here," Sirius commented, flicking his wand to light the hearth and the lamps.

"Yes, well, that's what happens when you lot get me drunk instead of letting me be responsible. Put James over there on the window seat for now unless you can wake him up and get some of this pizza into him," Hermione commented.

"Do you need help with the furniture?" Remus offered.

"I… I've just got to grab it and re-size it," she muttered, digging into her bag. Remus's eyes widened slowly when she sank her entire arm into it, all the way to the shoulder. "Gotcha!"

She withdrew a small couch set from inside triumphantly and arranged it all around the fireplace before un-shrinking it. Hermione cringed when the couches and armchairs proved a bit much for the small space.

"Well, they look comfy, anyway," Sirius said before flopping down on one of the squashy blue velvet couches. He groaned at the way he sunk into it, the thing soft enough that it almost ate him. "Bloody hell, witch! Where did you get this thing? I need one."

Hermione smiled as she set up the small dining table and enlarged it. "I'll show you sometime. I don't have plates yet, so dig into the pizza by hand. Try not to drop any on my couches."

She smiled gratefully when Remus cast Impervius charms on all the furniture to prevent stains or damage. The four Marauders grabbed slices of pizzas, Peter sitting at the table to eat while Sirius summoned a pizza box all to himself where he reclined on the couch. James was kicked awake by Remus and handed a piece of pizza, which he tore into hungrily, looking a little more alive the longer he ate.

While they were at it, Hermione trailed into her bedroom and began setting up the bed, her desk and a bedside table.

"Let me help?" Remus asked.

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice and looked over to find he'd followed her down the small hall and was leaning casually in the doorway as she dug out the closet she'd bought and resized it.

"Are you any good at domestic charms?" Hermione asked, fishing sheets and blankets from her bag and resizing those too.

"I can make it by hand if I fail the charm," he grinned. "If you don't mind letting me into your bedroom, that is."

"You're welcome in my bedroom anytime, Remus," Hermione blurted without thinking, her mind on the task of fishing out clothes from her bag.

Remus chuckled when she suddenly stopped, her eyes going wide and her head snapping up to stare at him when she realised what she'd said.

"That came out…" Hermione began, flushing. "I… bloody hell!"

"You're cute when you do that, Granger," he told her, pushing away from the doorway and strolling into the bedroom with her. "But you really should be careful what you say. I might just hold you to the notion of my welcome here."

Hermione gulped audibly when he walked right up to her, still grinning. Like a deer in the headlights, Hermione felt caught by his gaze, unable to look away.

"I…" Hermione began, her eyes wide as she stared at him. He was less than a foot from her.

"I wanted to wallop Padfoot this morning when he interrupted us, you know?" Remus murmured to her, his hand lifting carefully and reaching for her. Hermione held perfectly still, watching as he moved even closer. "If I do now what I was about to do before he showed up, will you mind?"

Hermione gulped when he cupped her cheek gently, the pad of his thumb tracing along her lower lip. His eyes were still threaded with gold and he looked hungry for her. She nipped his thumb without thinking and Hermione's heart skipped several beats when he chuckled huskily, lust permeating his gaze as he leaned toward her.

Hyper aware of every breath, Hermione realised he was about to kiss her and her whole body kicked into overdrive. She had been in love with Remus Lupin since her third year and he was  _finally_  going to kiss her, even though he believed he'd only just met her that morning.

The thought gave her pause but before she could focus on it, his lips brushed sensually over hers. Hermione melted. His lips were soft, and warm, and gentle upon hers, pressing lightly and making her tummy flip with excitement. Subconsciously she reached for him, not wanting him to pull away before she was done kissing him. Gripping his hips through his shirt, Hermione pressed herself against his chest, pulling herself closer to him and kissing him harder.

She would swear she could feel his lips quirk up into a smile as she threw herself into the kiss and when his tongue darted out to trace the seam of her lips, Hermione opened to him eagerly. Her heart was hammering out a wild and uneven beat inside her chest, which Hermione was sure Remus could hear, but if he minded, he didn't let it show.

He smiled against her lips even as he kept kissing her, walking her backward slowly until her back hit her bedroom wall. Hermione wanted to cry with joy when he leaned into her, moulding his strong body against her soft one and pinning her to the wall in the most delicious way.

She almost swallowed her tongue in shock a few minutes later when he pulled back from her lips, his wand trained on her and his hand gripping her left arm tightly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, pulling on the arm when he used a Slicing hex on her sleeve. She tried to clap her hand over the scars upon that arm, even though they were hidden by a glamour.

"What are you hiding, Granger?" Remus asked, all business with a coldness to his voice that gave her chills. " _Finite Incantatum_!"

Hermione cried out in protest as he cancelled her glamour, realising dimly that he thought she was a Death Eater spy. Hermione clamped her hand over the scars on her flesh, trying to hide them, not wanting Remus to see them.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, fighting with him when he poked his wand up under her chin threateningly, his free hand trying to peel her fingers from her forearm.

"You've been lying to us," he replied. "You didn't go to Hogwarts with us. I'd have noticed. You lied about Hogwarts, and for all I know you're lying about your motives, your job, even your name. Is this even your flat, or is it some spot to lure the lot of us before handing us over to Voldemort?"

Hermione sighed, realising from the feral glint in his eyes and the angry growl in his voice that he didn't trust her one iota. She wondered, idly, if he'd already been spending time with the werewolf Packs of Britain on Dumbledore's orders. He seemed too wild, too violent, to be the kind and calm werewolf Hermione had come to know in the time she'd left behind.

Uncurling her fingers and letting all the fight drain out of herself, Hermione offered her left forearm to him, knowing he was looking for a Dark Mark branded into her skin. His brow furrowed when instead of a skull and snake tattoo, he caught sight of the jagged, raised red scar, the word 'Mudblood' carved in all capitals, the width of her forearm beginning at the join of her elbow and scarring the flesh all the way down to her wrist. A hack job that looked almost like some of the worst cutting scars Hermione remembered being warned about in her muggle primary school.

" _Finite._ "

Hermione almost snorted at the way he frowned and cast the spell, obviously thinking it was another glamour.

"It's not a spell, Remus," Hermione sighed. "That's my skin. Courtesy of a Death Eater who took issue with my blood status."

His eyes lifted to her own.

"Who?" he asked. "Who did this to you?"

His stance changed immediately, when he realised that she wasn't likely to sell them out to Voldemort. Hermione bit her lip on the urge to tell him that he should be looking for the traitor a little closer to home.

"That's not really your business, is it, Lupin?" she asked, lifting one eyebrow at him. "You've had your fun. So, seeing as you only snogged me with the intent of manipulating me to ensure I'm not a Death Eater, I think I'd like you to get out of my bedroom now."

The betrayal stung a little, not because she was put out that he'd wanted to make sure she wasn't a threat - that made sense to her and she was pleased he was on his guard. No, the betrayal bothering her was the fact that she was clearly too transparent. She suspected it was usually Sirius who seduced girls into such a position to get them out of their clothing enough to ensure they didn't have a Dark Mark, but she was too obvious in her crush on Remus, so they'd sent him instead. And she'd fallen for it. She was more than a little hurt that he'd only snogged her as a distraction and not because he was attracted to her. She was also furious with herself for falling for it so easily. Where was her constant vigilance now? Moody would be furious with her if he could see her. Well, if he could see her and know her in this time, since he wouldn't, yet.

"Don't be put out with me," Remus said quietly, tipping his head to one side as he regarded her carefully. "I didn't want to lead you on, but we had to know. Your story doesn't add up. If you'd been living in Gryffindor Tower with the lot of us for six years, I'd have noticed."

"Well, you didn't," Hermione replied coldly, jerking her wand from her pocket and repairing the damage he'd done to her sleeve before re-applying the glamour spell to hide her scars. She was surprised that Remus had actually tried to explain himself. Ordinarily, the Remus she'd known would have just raised his eyebrows, sighed in resignation, and walked away. No, this younger version of her favourite werewolf was a lot more confident, maybe a bit more hot-headed and more prone to acting without thinking, or so it seemed. He wasn't the same as the man she'd grown so fond of - the one she'd deserted her own time to save. Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about that, if she was being honest. She couldn't deny that she was attracted to him, but neither could she say he was who she'd sacrificed her entire life for.

"Didn't notice?" he clarified. "Don't give me that look, Granger. I'm not trying to call you a wallflower beneath notice. I'm saying that you're  _not_  those things, hence why I don't believe your story about being at Hogwarts with us."

"Because you were so focused on every witch sharing the school with you?" she asked challengingly, and she caught the way Remus's eyes widened slightly.

If there was one thing she could proudly claim, Hermione was level-headed and chillingly detached when the need arose. She might've misplaced her equilibrium with this handsome young version of Remus, letting her tongue wag before her brain approved the words dripping off it, but she was thinking that was about to change. The Remus she'd known would never have been as rough with a witch as to shove her into something unless he had probable cause to believe she was a threat. Clearly this version of Remus was shocked by the change in her demeanour from playful, knowledgeable and a little star-struck to the cool, collected, frosty witch she could be.

"I meant I'd have noticed because you're beautiful and you're smart. I spent more time in the library than most and I don't remember  _ever_  seeing you there."

"If I wasn't at Hogwarts with you, how would I have known all of your names?" she challenged. "How would I know that Sirius's favourite pick-up line involves an offer to ride the smoothest broomstick in Britain?"

Remus's eyes widened at the mention of the man's favourite line to pull women.

"But... I'd have noticed you..." he murmured, his eyes searching her face.

"You didn't," she shrugged. "I didn't  _want_  to be noticed, Remus. I liked being invisible. I got my homework done in a timely fashion, I kept on top of my studies, and I avoided my roommates because we had nothing in common when all they wanted to do was talk fashion and giggle over boys and pant after the likes of Sirius Black. More often than not, I used Concealment charms in the Common Room to keep from being seen. I was practically a hermit. Unless you'd walked right into me or sat on me, I guarantee you'd not have noticed me."

"You said Sirius hit on you once," he argued.

"Sirius fell into my lap, drunk, one night after losing a Quidditch match. He tripped and landed on my lap where I was sitting, squashed into the corner of the common room because one of my roommates was shagging someone without bothering with Silencing charms in my dormitory and I'd been kicked out of the library at curfew," Hermione said, pulling ideas out of her arse to get away with this charade.

Remus eyed her in silence for another long moment.

"Moony? You good in there?" James called before sauntering into the room.

Hermione looked past where Remus had her, still pinned to the wall, to spot James leaning in the doorway. He had a slice of pizza in one hand and his wand in the other. He also looked significantly less inebriated than he'd been when they'd levitated him into the apartment. Hermione narrowed her eyes on him, wondering how much of his intoxication had been an act.

"Everything's fine, Prongs," Remus told him. "She's not a spy. She hasn't got a Dark Mark."

Hermione opened her mouth without thinking and blurted out more words that would unsettle them, rather than comfort them.

"You do realise that not every Voldemort supporter has a Dark Mark, don't you?" she asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'd take that bastard down myself if I could, but he doesn't brand every single one of his supporters. It would make them too easy to identify if they were questioned. Only the most loyal and ruthless Death Eaters of the inner circle are given the mark. Which, I believe, they have to earn by murdering someone."

"And just how do you know that?" Sirius asked, walking up behind James.

"Let's just say I've been around the block a few times," Hermione replied darkly, her fingers scratching at her scar.

"They tell you that when they cut you up, Treasure?" Sirius asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Cut you up?" James asked, his bloodshot eyes widening.

"Must we discuss that?" Hermione sighed. "I'd really rather it wasn't common knowledge."

"I still think you should let me press charges. I'm an Auror, Treasure. That's my job."

"Your job is to protect those who can't protect themselves and to take down bad guys. I assure you, Black, I protected myself just fine. I wouldn't be standing here if I hadn't."

"Yeah?" he asked, a smirk pulling at his lips. "That got anything to do with the training room and practice dummies in the spare room?"

Hermione narrowed hr eyes to know he'd been snooping while Remus kept her occupied.

"Where is Pettigrew?" she asked, changing the subject.

Sirius and James both looked toward the living room.

"He passed out on the couch," Sirius shrugged.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. A likely story. That filthy rat had been known to fake his own death and feign sleep when it might be to his advantage. She'd bet he was foxing and that he was listening to their every word.

"If you're all finished with accusing me of Death Eater ties, could we all vacate my bedroom? I'm hungry and I'm not in the mood for more of your bollocks."

James raised one eyebrow at her change of mood but nodded, sauntering away, his steps clumsy with his intoxication. Sirius eyed her for another minute before following James. Remus didn't move.

"You're angry with me," he surmised.

"You think?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Couldn't be because you lot just gave me the third degree all because I was too far beneath your notice at school to register on your radar. And it certainly couldn't have anything to do with being snogged under false pretences. You let me think you were interested in me just to get me alone and drill me, Lupin. You're lucky I'm not throwing you out of my flat in a hysterical tantrum."

"I might've had ulterior motives for cornering you, Granger," he replied. "But don't make the mistake of thinking I didn't  _want_ to snog you just because I used it to figure out what you were hiding under that glamour."

Hermione was shocked at his bold words, and even more shocked when he trailed his thumb across her cheek, tunnelling his hand into her hair and tipping her head up before snogging her again. She almost fell for it. His lips were so warm, and he tasted so good, and she fancied him so bloody much that Hermione almost fell for the kiss in lieu of an apology for his actions. Pressing both hands against his chest, Hermione felt the muscles bunch under her palms before she shoved him away.

"I don't want your pity, Remus," she said coldly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and stomping for the door.

"My pity?" he repeated, sounding confused as she passed him. "Pity's got precious little to do with it, Hermione."

"Oh?" she challenged, glaring at him from the doorway. "So, you're not planning to seduce me now just to make me feel better because you didn't register my existence in your living space for six years? You're not trying to correct your blunder of using my interest in you for your own gain? You're not a hit-it-and-quit-it sort of guy who'll shag me stupid and be gone before the sun comes up, because - here's the kicker - you  _can't do commitment_? Just save it, Remus. Maybe you lot didn't notice me at school, but I noticed you. I know Potter's mad for Evans. I know Sirius will shag anything with a pulse. And I know you're a love 'em and leave 'em sort of bloke who'll rock a girl's world and ditch them as soon as that itch is scratched because you're too scared to let anyone get close in case they figure out the  _real_  you."

Remus's eyes went wide at the insinuation of his lycanthropy and he looked shocked by the venom in her gaze. Hermione was a little shocked herself. She'd never been so blunt with him, not even when she'd heard tales from Sirius about the type of bloke Remus had been in his youth, before his friends were killed and Sirius was sent to prison. Too scared to let anyone get close in case they realised he was a werewolf, Remus Lupin was the type to talk a girl out of her knickers with all his animal magnetism and then disappear before they realised they'd been hard-fucked by someone strong enough to break them in half with one hand if he really wanted to.

She left him standing in her bedroom and stomped into the living room, snatching up a slice of pizza and chewing it hungrily before returning to the task of furnishing her flat.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sunday, 11th November, 1979_

**Hermione's Flat, Diagon Alley**

By the time she finished setting up her bookshelves and the spare bed, the pizza was gone. She'd unpacked a number of her books as she wandered about, setting up the shelves and filing the books by hand while eating with her free hand. The boys had continued drinking their Firewhiskey until that was gone, too. Remus had fallen silent, for the most part. Sirius did most of the talking, regaling his friends with tales of his Auror training. Peter was snoring from the couch and James was dropping toward sleep again the more he drank as Hermione unpacked.

"Oi, Treasure?" Sirius asked softly from the couch.

Hermione turned to look at him, shoulder deep in her bag as she fished for more of her books. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know Undetectable Extension charms are illegal, right?" he asked, smirking.

Hermione froze. Sirius laughed at her.

"I might be willing to let it go, just this once, if you don't mind us camping over," he bargained. "Don't reckon Peter or James would get home, even if we tried to send them through the Floo."

"You want to stay here?" she asked, frowning.

"That a problem?" he asked.

Hermione darted a glance over the four of them for a moment, her eyes lingering on Remus. He watched her carefully in return, obviously still thinking himself in trouble and thinking she might throw them out because he'd annoyed her with his plan to seduce her and bail. Knowing that she needed to better befriend them and to repair the rift if she was going to survive here and going to protect them from Peter's betrayal, Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"There's fresh sheets on the spare bed, if you want it. Blankets in the hall closet if you need them."

Sirius grinned.

"Just..." she paused, trailing her eyes over the four of them carefully. "Refrain from breaking in the new bed tonight, yeah?"

Sirius looked shocked when she looked pointedly at him before flicking her eyes at James indicatively.

"I don't swing that way, Treasure," he laughed. "Neither does Prongs."

"Really?" she challenged, raising one eyebrow. "Funny, I could've sworn you two were caught snogging under mistletoe in your fifth year."

Sirius blushed. "Shit. Heard about that, did you?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't like that. We were stuck."

"I heard he pinned you to the wall and snogged you stupid even after the mistletoe magic broke," Hermione replied, grinning knowingly. "Don't blush. I don't care who you shag or who you fancy. Just refrain from doing it in my spare bed this evening. If anyone's breaking in the beds in my flat, it'll be me."

Remus and Sirius both stared at her, wide eyed for a moment.

"Bloody hell, witch! If that's not an offer, I might cry," Sirius admitted with a groan.

"I'll get you a handkerchief, shall I?" Hermione smirked, stacking more books on the shelves.

"You really are immune to my charms, aren't you?" Sirius said, sounding puzzled. "Don't reckon it's because of my reputation, either. Moony's almost as bad as me but you two still have enough sexual tension to choke a dragon. What's the deal? Usually witches fall into my lap."

Hermione glanced at Remus for a moment, who blushed at Sirius suggestion about their sexual tension. She looked Sirius over for a long moment.

"You're prettier than me," Hermione told him after raking her eyes up and down his reclined form.

"Love, I'm prettier than most people," Sirius grinned cockily.

"I have enough insecurities in-built with this hair without the type I'd get from comparing myself to you," Hermione shrugged. "I prefer my men rugged. Your features are so aristocratic and pretty it almost hurts to look at you."

"Yeah, but imagine the kids I'll sire," he winked.

Hermione actually laughed.

"Black if they had your looks and my hair, I'm pretty sure they'd look entirely too much like your cousin for anyone's comfort. Thanks, but I'll pass."

Sirius blinked at her words.

"Bellatrix?" he asked. "Shit. Didn't even think about that. You're right. Still though, it should be noted that you're the first witch to turn me down for my looks."

"A record I'll treasure forever," Hermione grinned impishly. "I think I'll have a plaque made to put on my mantel. Maybe buttons, too. I'll pin one to my robes every day, proudly boasting the title of 'First Witch to turn down Sirius Black because he's too pretty'."

Sirius was laughing, shaking his head at her.

"Moony?" he asked.

"Mmm?" Remus hummed.

"I reckon this one's trouble," Sirius told him. "I'm not sure we can trust someone impervious to my charms."

"Why? I'm impervious to them. So are Wormtail and Prongs."

"Mmm, that's why I don't reckon we can trust her," Sirius said and Remus snorted. "Even Evans isn't impervious to my charms. This one's trouble. Wily, I reckon. And she's delighted to have turned me down for a shag. Cheeky, that is."

Hermione couldn't help laughing at him as he watched her.

"She snogs like the devil, too," Remus told him.

"Oi! Don't taunt me with knowledge of something I'll never have, mate. It's rude."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Go to bed, Pads. You're plonkered."

"Am not," Sirius argued.

"Spare room, you said?" Remus asked, slanting a glance at her.

"Across from mine," Hermione nodded. "Take Potter in there, too. The bed's big enough."

"James will squeal if he wakes up with me spooning him again," Sirius told her, grinning impishly as he attempted to get to his feet and failed, slumping back against the couch when his drunken legs didn't want to cooperate.

"Just don't shag him in that bed until I break it in, Sirius," Hermione laughed, offering him her hand to pull him to his feet. She steered him down the hall while Remus got up and began levitating James down the corridor as the stag-animagus snored on.

"It was one snog, woman! One! And it meant less than fuck all. I prefer girls and Prongs is so mad for Evans that I doubt he'll ever shag anyone  _but_  her. So, leave off with the suggestions that I'm nailing my best mate, yeah?

"You need an extra blanket?" she asked of Sirius rather than acknowledging his words. She knew both men were straight. She just liked flaunting the knowledge she had of their snog - Sirius had drunkenly shared it with her one night before he'd died - as it helped make her tale of attending Hogwarts with them more believable.

"If you've got one," he nodded. "Prongs steals the covers. And that quilt won't cover three. Unless you're inviting Moony in with you?"

Hermione hid her eagerness for that idea, even if she had gotten annoyed with Remus for that very notion earlier.

"Unlikely, Pads. She's put out with me for snogging her under false pretences."

"Ulterior motive doesn't negate the attraction sparking between you two," Sirius argued.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know what? Put James in mine and you two can giggle and gossip in the spare," Hermione told them, doubting they'd want to all cram into the small double bed and not trusting herself with the idea of sleeping next to Remus, even without shagging him first.

"Oi, now Treasure… There's no need to get your wand in a knot over our need to ensure you weren't a Death Eater."

"You already knew I wasn't a Death Eater after accosting me in the shop, Sirius," Hermione argued with him. "You'd already seen my scars."

"Had to make sure," Sirius shrugged. "Your story doesn't add up. You might've been an imposter, posing as the girl I met today."

"The next time you doubt me, why don't you just ask, rather than hurling two hundred pounds of animal magnetism at me and then dashing my hopes with a cold splash of reality?" Hermione retorted. She heard Remus stumble slightly at her blunt description of him and her hurt feelings at being honey-potted.

"Well now, where's the fun in that?" Sirius wanted to know. "You realise James will literally wake up screaming if I put him in with you, right? And Evans will get her wand in a knot if she finds out."

"Do you actually imagine me molesting the poor bloke?" Hermione scoffed. "With that hair? Please."

Sirius sniggered.

"Do it, Moony," he said. "Pop James in Granger's bed, I can't wait to see his reaction in the morning."

"He'll kill us," Remus protested.

"Well, it's either put him in with her or squeeze the three of us into the spare bed, mate," Sirius shrugged. "She's cranky and not going to let  _you_  crawl in with her. And she doesn't trust me."

"It's fine. I'll just sleep on the couch," Remus muttered.

"Nah, I want to see James panic in the morning. Here, help me get his shirt off, would you?" Sirius was smirking and sniggering as he peeled James out of his shirt without waking the wizard. He pulled his glasses from his nose, too, setting them on the side table. Hermione found herself staring in open-mouthed shock to learn that James Potter had a tattoo. A huge one. Taking up the full expanse of his back was a silhouette tattoo of a rat, inside a dog, inside a stag, inside a werewolf. Just the heads of each animal, except the rat, the Werewolf and the dog were done in black ink, the stag and the rat left skin-coloured, but their shapes were nonetheless distinguishable. The four Marauder forms, all right there on his back. The werewolf howled, the tip of his snout reaching the first thoracic vertebrae at the base of James's neck and the rat sitting right in the spot where girls usually got a tramp-stamp.

She wished, as she stared at the tattoo, that Harry was here to see this. The tattoo, his Dad shit-faced, his godfather and Remus similarly intoxicated and obviously finding the practical joke of putting a dedicated James into bed with a woman, not his girlfriend, to be utterly hilarious. Harry would be wide-eyed with surprise and happiness at the sight, she knew. The pang of missing her best friend hit her hard and it occurred to her, belatedly, that in the time she'd left, Remus had been the one aching for friends he'd lost. In this time, that would be her cross to bear instead and she felt a wave melancholy crash over her at the thought.

Sirius was too busy sniggering as he stuffed his best mate into bed, but Remus picked up on her shift in mood almost instantly. He raised one eyebrow at her, his shoulder propped in the doorway. Hermione pretended not to see, squashing down the urge she suddenly had for someone to give her a big hug. Instead, she turned back to the hall cupboard and fetched a spare blanket to put on the end of the spare bed.

When she was done, she made for the bathroom, not bothering to say goodnight to either young man before closing the door so she could strip and shower. The notion that the four Marauders were sleeping in her flat with her for the night amused and alarmed her in equal measure as she washed her hair. When she got out of the shower, Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She still looked tired and too skinny. The effects of the war hung upon her face and her regrets seemed to dance in her eyes. Honestly, she wouldn't even mind letting Remus have her now if it would shut off the crashing waves of despair and longing to see her own best friends again. Seeing the Marauders so young and so carefree hurt a part of her that she hadn't known existed, not only for Harry, but for herself too. She tried to imagine, for a moment, the life she might've had if she hadn't time-travelled and if Peter had never betrayed his friends. Would she have been invited to James and Lily's place to visit Harry at the holidays? Would she sit across the dining table from Remus and Sirius, either or both of them dragging a bimbo along with them whilst coyly flirting with her just to watch her blush?

She didn't doubt she'd still have had a crush on Remus. How could she not? The man was too... everything. Too sexy. Too wild. Too dangerous. Too barely-restrained. Too funny. Too kind. Too sweet. Her lips were still tingling from the kisses they'd traded, and she didn't know if she should be offended or grateful that he'd broken the kiss to ensure she wasn't an imposter. The reminder of who and what he was in this time ate at her. She craved him desperately, but she recalled with too much clarity that Remus had once confessed to only shagging girls in his youth for the sake of placating Moony, never risking more than a night or two with a girl before moving on because he didn't want anyone to figure out his secret and he didn't like for anyone to see his scars.

Not that she blamed him, exactly, but she didn't want to be on the long list of the girls he shagged and ditched. She wanted to be the one who would snag his heart and convince him that his condition meant nothing to her. She wanted him forever, not just for one night. And she would get him, even if it killed her. But not tonight. Smoothing a hand through her curls, Hermione sighed before fishing into her beaded bag for her pyjamas. Aware that she might encounter all four Marauders in the morning, she donned one of the Bulgarian Quidditch team jerseys she'd pinched from Viktor when she'd briefly dated him. She'd almost pulled on one of Harry's old ones, but she didn't want to risk having the boys see the name Potter on it. That would, undoubtedly, raise a few questions. That being said, if they followed the Bulgarian league, they'd be confused by the name Krum stamped across her shoulders, but she didn't care. Pairing it with a pair of blue bed-shorts, Hermione used a towel to squeeze the water out of her hair as she left the bathroom.

She was nowhere near ready to sleep yet, despite the need to be up and heading to work in a little under six hours. Heading for her tiny kitchen, Hermione pottered about, making a cup of tea for herself and unpacking more of the items she had stored away in her bag from their camping trip. It would need a good clean out, now that she was here, but she wanted to ensure she would always have all of the essentials with her, just in case.

She barely thought about it as she mindlessly made lunch for herself and for all four of the Marauders in preparation for the following day. She doubted they would have time or feel well enough in the morning to make anything for themselves and they would all need to be out the door early. It never occurred to her how odd that might seem in the morning as she bagged them all up and labelled them with a marker, so used to feeding Harry and Ron that it was second nature.

With lunch handled, she puttered about, noting that Peter looked extremely uncomfortable on the couch. She wondered if he was a traitor yet. Part of her wanted to attack him, but she wouldn't risk it. Not yet. Not when she might instead influence him away from joining the Death Eaters. Not when it might cost her Remus. Sighing, and going against her better judgement, Hermione fetched a spare pillow and a spare blanket from the hall closet and brought them back to him.

He woke with a lurch when she touched him to lift his head, his hand jerking his wand from his pocket and his eyes wide. She smiled gently.

"Sorry to wake you," she murmured. "Here."

She pushed the pillow under his head.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asked suspiciously, slurring slightly and obviously still drunk, but alert enough to fret.

Hermione blinked at the question.

"Have you given me reason  _not_  to be nice to you, Peter?" Hermione asked in return even as she shook out the blanket and spread it over him. "Is there some reason you think that, perhaps, you might not deserve to have someone be nice to you?"

He narrowed his beady little eyes on her for a moment, trying to figure her out.

"Where are my friends?" he asked, rather than answering her.

"James is passed out in my bed. Remus and Sirius are in the spare. There's probably room there if you'd prefer to crawl in with them."

He shook his head.

"They both bark into their sleep," he muttered more to himself than to her. "Why's Prongs with you?"

"Sirius thinks it will be funny in the morning when he wakes up next to someone who isn't Lily," Hermione shrugged.

Peter snorted.

"Will be," he murmured. "Thanks for the pillow."

Hermione nodded, watching his eyes drifting closed again. He fell back to sleep quickly, and Hermione again had to fight the urge to murder him. It would be so easy. A soft curse and he'd  _never_  betray his friends. Shaking her head and clenching her fist to herself as she moved away from him, she told herself she'd just have to keep an eye on him whenever possible.

Glancing around her flat, Hermione nibbled her bottom lip. She felt full of restless energy despite the alcohol slowly clearing her system and despite the fact that it was nearly one in the morning. Knowing there was little left that she could unpack right then and not wanting to do something that would wake the boys, Hermione tossed up between reading a book or working on her defence moves. She needed to stay sharp, and reading wouldn't burn off her energy, though duelling would likely mean she'd need another shower before work in the morning. Frowning to herself before shrugging, Hermione pulled her hair up into a ponytail and let herself into the training room she'd made out of the third bedroom.

Tucking her beaded bag into the waistband of her shorts, Hermione charmed the three dummies in the room to attack her with Stinging jinxes so that she would know where her guard was down. Barefoot, she began to duel, flicking hexes and sending the dummies reeling as quickly as she could. They flung hexes at her every chance they had and soon she was ducking, weaving, rolling and panting, trying to catch her breath and running purely on the adrenaline.

Slipping into a state of hyper-alertness, Hermione slashed vicious hexes at the dummies, having charmed them repair themselves and continue attacking after a moment whenever they went down. She flung Slicing hexes, Stinging jinxes, Entrail-Expelling curses and Dolohov's famed fire-curse that had left the starburst of purple blazed across her chest. After surviving it, she had done all she could to learn it for herself. Sweat poured off her, her breath growing ragged and her limbs beginning to shake the longer she fought. She kept at it, hissing and grunting every time she caught a Stinging hex, until she could barely lift her arm.

When she was getting hit more often than she was firing back, Hermione cancelled the spell, ending the training session to lean against the wall tiredly. Merlin, she needed sleep. She needed rest and peace and the chance to simply disappear into a book and never come out again, if she was being honest.

But there was no time for such things. She was at war. Here, in this time, she was at war against the clock and against Fate. She needed to circumvent as many bad things as she could. She knew, too, that for everything she altered, the timeline and the fate of the world would change. Every person saved would continue to affect their surroundings instead of ceasing to exist. Every life saved was another to weave a more complex pattern in the fabric of the world.

Hermione knew that, but she would do it, just the same. She would save those she could and if she lost those who mattered most to her, she would spin back the clock once more and let it play out all over again, altering different things until she was satisfied with the result. Plan firmly in mind and her body aching from the number of Stinging hexes she'd taken, Hermione caught her breath and pushed slowly away from the wall.

She nearly hexed Remus stupid when she found him leaning in the doorway, watching her.


	7. Chapter 7

_Monday 12th November, 1979 – 2:54AM_

**Hermione's Flat, Diagon Alley**

Hermione stared at him, wide eyed and slightly fearful when she realised he'd just caught her. The look in his eyes suggested he'd been there long enough to see what she was capable of, but he didn't speak. He'd propped his shoulder in the doorway, one ankle curled around the other and his arms folded over his bare chest.

"Did I wake you?" Hermione asked quietly, feeling awkward as she stared at him.

He'd obviously been in bed because at some stage, he'd discarded his shirt. He stood there in only his jeans, which were suspiciously undone, the button and fly open to reveal that he was commando beneath them. She could tell because the treasure trail of light brown hair was uninterrupted, thickening to a thatch of curls that peeked out where his jeans gaped open.

Merlin's little green apples, he would be the death of her!

"You warded the room," he replied, obviously not willing to admit that she'd silenced the room enough that anyone with normal human hearing wouldn't have been able to hear her training.

"I did," she agreed. She'd learned a long time ago that Remus didn't like to lie, but he wasn't above omitting the truth. His answer suggested that she should believe she couldn't have woken him thanks to her wards, but left it open enough that he couldn't be caught outright fibbing to her.

"You're good," he complimented. "One of the best I've ever seen outside of those who've completed Auror training. Certainly better than any of us, even Sirius."

"I don't know about that," Hermione said, blushing modestly.

"It's the truth. Not many people could take on three opponents at once for nigh on an hour without collapsing and without losing, Hermione," Remus told her.

Hermione would've blushed were her cheeks not still flushed from the exertion of her duel.

"I like to keep in shape," she offered.

"It shows."

"I didn't mean to disturb you. You've got to be up for your first day shortly, Remus. You should rest."

He tilted his head to one side, regarding her curiously.

"Why did you agree to drink with us?" he asked softly. "Why let us invade your flat and use your spare room – even share  _your_  bed – and commandeer your couch on your very first day in this place? You don't know any of us from Adam, outside of school, though none us remember ever seeing you. Yet, you let us in. You fed us. You made sure we'd be warm and safe, and that we had somewhere to sleep rather than risking splinching ourselves or Flooing to Merlin only knows where."

Hermione bit her lip, using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe her sweaty forehead.

"I'm just a nice person, I guess," she shrugged noncommittally.

"This goes beyond nice," he commented. "Most people wouldn't put up their close friends the way you've done tonight, Hermione. You met all of us, officially, today. Yet, here we are. James is snoring in your bed and likely drooling on your pillows. I  _know_  Sirius is drooling on the pillows in the spare. You didn't force us to shower, didn't fret over the idea of ruining your new couch by letting Peter sleep on it. You just fed us and went about your day as though accommodating us was your privilege. Why?"

Hermione shrugged.

"It's nice not to be alone," she told him. "This flat is much bigger than I thought it would be when I took it. I'd be rather lonely if I was here all by myself, don't you think?"

"So, you'd just put up any bunch of blokes you met on the street?" the suspicious werewolf asked, raising one eyebrow doubtfully.

"You're hardly strangers," she said softly, moving over to the door and thinking about having another cup of tea, or at the very least about grabbing a glass of water. "Just because you lot didn't know me, doesn't mean I don't know you. The perks of being invisible include the ability to observe people. Their habits; their likes; their personalities. I probably know more about the four of you than half the girls you bed."

Remus narrowed his eyes slightly as she moved to the door, meaning to push past him. He was blocking it, leaning that way, and he didn't look like he wanted to budge.

"We've ascertained that you're not a Death Eater, Hermione, but the way you act, the things you say and the way you duel certainly lend a certain something to the notion of there being more to you than you're letting on."

"Of course, there's more to me, Remus," Hermione smiled gently. "There's the fact that I like daffodils and sunflowers. And that my favourite colour is purple. And that I adore reading more than almost anything else in the world, save for one."

He raised his eyebrows, wanting to know what that one thing was. Hermione smiled, patting his shoulder lightly as she passed him to get a drink. He followed her, dogging her steps across the flat and into the cramped kitchen, where he blocked her in once more. He seemed to enjoy corralling her in places where she might have a hard time getting away, Hermione noticed.

"So, you just let us stay to keep from being alone?" he asked.

"What were you hoping I'd say, Remus?" Hermione asked, tipping her head to look at him as she fixed them both a cup of tea.

He eyed her warily for the return question.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Hermione grinned slyly. "Were you hoping to hear that I invited the lot of you back here hoping to get you alone when the others Floo'd home?"

Remus looked startled by the bluntness of her question, Moony and Remus both watching her from the depths of his eyes. He was intrigued, she thought mildly, pleased to know she'd managed to capture his attention for more than just being a potential Death Eater spy.

"If I were?" he challenged, far bolder in his youth than she recalled him being in middle-age.

Hermione smiled as she passed him a cup of tea made just the way he liked it.

"I'd probably tell you that it was a sound plot," she smiled. "It certainly crossed my mind. Especially when we were both in my bedroom."

Remus couldn't quite hide a grin at her admission. He tipped his head once more, sipping from his cup slowly as he regarded her over the rim. Hermione, in turn, drank in the sight of him. Gods, he seemed so young compared to the man she'd fallen for, but that was because he was. He was a little less self-conscious at this age than he'd been in middle-age, too.

Tracing her eyes over the wiry litheness of his torso, Hermione licked her lips. He'd always been thin, thanks to his ridiculously fast metabolism and a general lack of money to feed himself unless he ran the food down himself. Here, however, he was undoubtedly strong and well-fed but still limber. His chest was sparsely decorated with soft brown hair, barely visible, and his skin was dominated by scars.

Most of them, she recognised from seeing him shirtless in the time she'd left behind, but many of them were fresher scars, still pink instead of faded and pale with age. He made no effort to cover them. They were undoubtedly claw marks, self-inflicted wounds from the way he tore at his own flesh in his rage and frustration when he changed at the full moon. Some, she knew, were the result of the itchiness and pain the transformation caused. The rest were simply self-rage. He also bore a nasty looking bite mark – the most faded of his scars, on this right side on his stomach above his hip, it created a half-crescent across his abs and was mirrored on his back, should he turn around.

The wound where Fenrir Greyback had bitten him.

Hermione allowed her eyes to trace his form hungrily, aware that he was watching her assess him, and aware that he could likely smell her arousal as she did so. She didn't mind. If he knew she was hot for him, it would only help further her chances with him. When she let her eyes stray the length of his treasure trail to the hair poking out his still-undone jeans, Hermione was sure her knickers were wet, and she was certain Remus knew it.

He smirked knowingly when she met his gaze, seeming to approve when she didn't blush at being caught staring.

"You look at me like that, yet we both know you're not going to let me have you," he commented.

Hermione smiled crookedly in return. "Not tonight, I won't."

"If you know so much about the four of us, surely you're aware that I don't date?" he lifted one eyebrow.

"I know enough to take a stab at  _why_  you don't date, Remus Lupin," Hermione replied. "And I'm certain that, in time, you'll see your reason for it means nothing to me."

His eyes darkened and widened slightly at her words, his expression shifting from one of hunger to one of suspicion once more.

"You're a very strange witch, Hermione Granger," he commented.

Hermione shrugged unrepentantly, climbing up on the island bench to perch so she could continue to stare at him hungrily.

"You'll get used to me," she said. "Or you could, if you wanted to."

He narrowed his eyes on her. She could tell he was trying to figure out if she actually knew his secret, or if she was just being coy. She could tell he could probably smell the bite-mark on her shoulder, too, and she'd bet it was part of why he was so suspicious of her. She wasn't a werewolf, of course. But she'd been bitten by one, in human form. By him, in fact. Hermione had never told anyone, but the night Remus had turned up at Grimmauld Place when he'd learned Tonks was pregnant – trying to convince them that he should come Horcrux Hunting with them in his panic over the idea of impending fatherhood – he'd happened upon her in the kitchen.

She'd never told the boys, of course. She'd never told anyone. She'd been making tea for all of them and she hadn't heard Remus enter the house, despite the wards. The man was tricky with a wand when he needed to be and he'd been half out of his head with the approaching full moon and the stress he'd been under. He'd come up behind her in the kitchen, announcing himself by putting his hands on her hips from behind and pressing himself against her back.

The touch itself wasn't actually that unusual. Before he and Tonks had become an item – indeed, before Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place in the summer before her fifth year, she'd learned that at certain times of the month, Remus craved physical intimacy. Not just in instances where he needed to get laid, but often when he just needed to touch someone, or press himself against someone.

Most often, he'd done it to Sirius, pressing his thigh to Sirius's at the table, or his arm to Sirius's when they stood side by side. Sometimes he'd sit close to the man in the library, dropping onto the couch right beside him and leaning against him. Sometimes, Hermione had learned that summer, Sirius wasn't enough. Sometimes he craved the touch of female flesh against his own. Maybe it was a scent thing, maybe it was some primal instinct that went deeper than that. The point was, he'd done it to her a number of times before that night when they'd been on the run.

He'd come up behind her, moulding himself against her back, sticking his nose into her hair and breathing in the feminine scent of her skin. He'd even pressed a collection of soft kisses against the skin where her neck met her shoulder, nosing aside the neckline of her shirt to get at her skin. She'd been able to feel his heart hammering out a rapid beat inside his chest and she knew she hadn't imagined the erection he'd ground against her bum. Hermione didn't recall speaking to him at the time, not even when he'd slipped hands - tipped with claws - under the hem of her shirt and caressed the taut flesh of her stomach. When she'd relaxed into the hold, tipping her head back to rest upon his shoulder and sighing as she let her imagination run away with her, he'd growled very softly, almost a purr. And then he'd fitted his teeth to that join at the base of her neck and the top of her shoulder, biting down hard enough to break the skin.

It should've hurt, Hermione had thought at the time, but it hadn't. It had felt good. Better than anything she'd felt up until that moment. In human form his bite couldn't do more than make her crave her steak a little rare and to lend her the benefit of slightly heightened senses. The touch alone had drawn a soft, mewling moan from her lips as her body had been abruptly thrust into orgasm from that single bite. She'd never spoken to Remus about it when it happened and hadn't had the chance to do so before he'd died.

The younger version she was ogling now could likely smell the bite on her skin, smell some part of himself upon her, and she suspected he wanted to know why. But she wasn't about to tell him unless he came out and admitted he was a werewolf.

"So where does that leave us?" Remus asked, still eyeing her curiously and like he'd enjoy ravishing her right there on the kitchen counter if she'd let him.

"I don't know," Hermione smiled at him. "You don't want to date. I don't want to shag you for one night and be forgotten by morning. I'd say it leaves us at something of an impasse, since I won't be shifting my notions of needing more than a cheap hook-up. Which, I suppose, leaves the quaffle in your Quidditch stadium. You figure out if the risk of dating me is worth the undeniable attraction between us coming to what I expect will be extremely satisfying fruition."

"You're not making this easy," he told her, looking slightly put out. "Though I find that I appreciate how frank you are about wanting me."

Hermione grinned. "I'm not a fan of miscommunication," she shrugged her shoulders. "And I hardly need to actually tell you verbally that I'm attracted to you. We both know that you already know, that you knew from the minute I ran into you in the street this morning. Why bother trying to deny the obvious?"

His mouth twisted at her words, his suspicions undoubtedly growing thanks to her assertions.

"What makes you think you'd want to spend more than one night with me, anyway?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "How do you know I'm not rubbish in the sack?"

Hermione's peel of laughter caused Peter to stir on the couch, a squeak of terror leaving the blond wizard.

"I guess I'll just have to risk it," she grinned when Remus looked somewhat vindicated at her obvious amusement over such a notion. "Though, if you truly  _are_  rubbish, I'm sure I'd be up to the task of better educating you, Remus."

"Out of the generosity of your heart," he smirked.

"Out of pure selfishness," Hermione corrected, making him laugh.

"You really are an odd witch," he said. "But I find you strangely refreshing from the type of girls I'm used to."

"Because I bluntly inform you that I want your emotions in addition to your body?" Hermione asked. "Or because I smell, oh-so-sweet?"

Remus laughed at her question.

"Well, I wouldn't bank on the second one right now, love," Remus said, exaggerating a sniff in her direction, reminding her that she was sweaty from her training session.

Hermione blushed as she looked down at her clothing.

"Right. I should shower. Again. I won't have time in the morning if you lot are planning to shower before heading off," Hermione murmured.

"You'd let us all shower here, too?" Remus asked incredulously.

"I made lunch for all of you to take to work tomorrow, too," Hermione smiled. "I hope that's ok? If not, it's fine. I'll keep them for my own use, but they're there if you all want them."

Remus was shaking his head, giving her a puzzled little smile as though she were an enigma.

"I don't suppose that if I offered to take you to dinner on Friday night, you'd invite me into the shower with you?" he said rather than mentioning what she'd done.

Hermione felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth.

"And risk being stood up?" she challenged. "We both know that if I let you have me tonight, I'll probably never see you again."

Remus looked mildly guilty for a moment. "You don't think I'd be true to my word?"

Hermione sighed softly, leaning back on her hands whilst sitting on the island bench.

"I think you're looking to get laid and that you labour under the delusion that the little sting of rejection now will save us both being desiccated in the long run. I think you believe you'd be doing me a favour by loving and leaving, rather than by hanging around long enough for either of us to become emotionally invested because you've got secrets that you think I can't handle."

Remus's eyes narrowed on her for her frank summation, but he didn't challenge the notion.

"That's a no, then?" he confirmed, trying to hide his disappointment.

"I'd think of it more like a challenge," Hermione smirked. "Prove me wrong."

"How am I supposed to do that if you won't let me join you in the shower?" he wanted to know.

Hermione smirked.

"Ask me to dinner for Friday night and find out, Remus."

He looked sceptical of the notion.

"Do you want to go out for dinner with me on Friday night?" he offered, looking suspicious when her smile grew even bigger.

"No," Hermione answered.

Remus's eyes widened, and his expression flashed with hurt and maybe a little annoyance, thinking she'd set him up just to let him down.

"I'm confused," he admitted gruffly, looking away from her when Peter made another squeaking sound from the couch.

"I don't want to go out for dinner," Hermione said. "I don't like social gatherings. I'm an introvert. I prefer to be away from loud, obnoxious people and I don't like big crowds."

"What are you doing spending time with the four of us, then?" Remus asked, looking amused. "And why ask me to ask you out if you were just going to turn me down."

"I don't want to go  _out_  for dinner," she smiled. "But I'd very much like it if you were to come over and have dinner with me here."

Remus's eyebrows lifted.

"You're inviting me back to your flat. When it will be just the two of us?" he confirmed.

"What's the matter Remus?" Hermione teased at his hesitant tone. "I promise  _I'm_  not the Big, Bad Wolf… though, I make no such pledges about biting, nibbling or even gobbling you up."

Remus's eyes went wide at her words.

"And if  _I'm_  the Big, Bad Wolf?" he asked softly, stalking closer with all the predatory grace of his lupine counterpart.

Hermione grinned wickedly.

"I have no objections to being eaten," she replied, and Remus's pupils blew wide with desire at her innuendos. He closed the distance between them, inserting his lean hips between her legs and scooting her forward upon the bench until her centre ground against the hot hardness of his body. One of his hands tangled in her curls, tipping her mouth up to receive the kiss he planted upon her lips.

She melted all over again, her own hand lifting to loop around the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his sandy hair as she kissed him hungrily. Sweet Circe, he was delicious! He swallowed her mewl of delight, grinding himself against her and making her want to forget all about holding out on shagging him until she could hook his heart rather than just catching his eye. His tongue swept between her lips to stroke hers surely, tasting, touching, licking at hers as though he couldn't get enough of her and Hermione knew that there would never be another wizard for her.

She  _had_  to have him. She'd  _do_  anything to have him and she'd destroy anyone who ever tried to take him away from her. The possessiveness of her thoughts channelled into the hunger of her kiss as she snogged him back, laying claim to his lips and his tongue, wanting to keep them for herself for the rest of time. He squeezed her so tight she was sure to have bruises when both hands slid under the hem of her shirt, gripping her hips as he pulled her even closer. The prick of his claws against her flesh made him growl, but Hermione leaned into him harder, craving more,  _needing_  more.

Merlin, what she wouldn't give to let him ravish her until the ache in her chest of missing her friends and her family went away. What she wouldn't give to let him have her right then, secure in the knowledge that he'd be back for more just as soon as he caught his breath. But it was wishful thinking, she knew. If she let him shag her now, he'd be gone by dawn, slipping away to avoid the awkwardness of letting her down easy.

And she didn't doubt he was good at letting girls down easy, by now. She'd seen his easy let-down in action a hundred times with Tonks in the time she'd left behind, but that tenacious Hufflepuff had refused to give up, no matter the number of times he rejected her. Hermione was thinking she was going to have to do the same. They'd never been matched as a couple, anyway. Hermione knew Remus had only settled for Tonks because as much as he tried to push her away, he didn't want to be alone and his grief after losing Sirius had gotten the best of him. Tonks had taken advantage, making him feel wanted and loved and like he still had something left in the world to hang onto.

In this time, he still had all his friends. His mother might be gone, but he had his friends, he had his pride, and he had a nasty habit of walking out on girls who gave him the quick thrill he needed to keep the wolf leashed. Hermione knew she'd have to be tricky to win his heart. She'd have to be careful, too. And as much a she adored kissing him, she was going to have to dial it back or she'd end up impaled on his cock right there on the kitchen counter.

Pulling back slowly, Hermione moaned when he followed her, not wanting to release her. His lips tore from hers to torment the sweet spot below her ear, his tongue darting out to lap at the spot guaranteed to drive her wild and Hermione knew that, had she been standing, her knees would've buckled.

"You're not doing either of us any favours," she whimpered breathlessly, her whole body on fire with desire that she had to keep contained.

"I'll do you all the favours you want if you let me have you, Hermione," he replied huskily, his teeth nipping at her neck, being careful not to break the skin.

"That's a very open-ended bargain, Remus Lupin," she whispered, pushing against his shoulders to drive him back from her before she could do something she'd regret.

His eyes were threaded gold when he blinked them open to meet her gaze. Hermione's own gaze darted to his chest, were her fingers teased through the fine strands of chest hair upon his person, a shiver raking through her to be touching him so intimately despite the snog they'd just shared.

"You're stopping me," he said, his voice showing his disappointment.

"I gave you the terms of my surrender, Remus."

"Have dinner with you Friday?" he confirmed. "Or date you?"

"Both," Hermione smiled sweetly. "Now, I'm going to go and enjoy a shower – a cold one – by myself. And you are going to go on back to bed and think about whether or not you want to keep holding out on me, or whether pursuing this is worth it."

She slid off the counter, being sure to grind herself against his heavy erection as she did so, enjoying the way it drew a hungry growl from him.

"You're killing me, Granger," he whined softly when Hermione left her teacup on the sink and sauntered away down the hall, intent on showering. He trailed behind her, unabashedly admiring the view as she walked away.

"How much longer until you beg for your life?" Hermione asked, grinning over her shoulder when she reached the door to the bathroom.

"You barely even know me," he protested. "Why would you want to go out with me?"

Hermione smiled up at him, enjoying the expression of torment on his face.

"I like the way you laugh," she shrugged. "And that you're well-read. And you're pretty."

"I thought you said you prefer ruggedly handsome to pretty, otherwise you'd be sweet on Sirius."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Hermione grinned impishly, enjoying the way his eyes flared at little. Stretching up on her toes, Hermione pecked him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Remus."

She closed the door in his face when he looked tortured and like he might risk following her into the bathroom, just to push his luck. The sound of his forehead dropping against the closed door and his frustrated groan made her giggle as she pulled off her jumper and reached for the taps in the shower once more.


	8. Chapter 8

_Monday 12_ _th_ _November, 1979 – 7:38AM_

**Hermione's Flat, Diagon Alley**

Four hours of sleep was not enough to deal with the amusement of having James Potter feeling her up in his sleep.

"Morning, beautiful," the messy haired wizard muttered, having spooned up behind her in bed when she'd returned from her shower. His arm was looped over her waist and his morning erection was pressed none-too-innocently against her arse.

Hermione fought the urge to grin.

"Morning, Prongs," Hermione replied softly, recalling the number of times she'd woken in this exact position with Harry rather than James.

Unlike Harry, however, James responded to the greeting by grinding himself against her a little more, nuzzling his nose against her bare shoulder, and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck while the arm he'd looped over her waist shifted up until his hand cupped her breast gently.

"Wait…" he muttered when Hermione shifted slightly, and her wild curls tickled his face.

She turned just far enough to watch his eyes go wide when he realised he wasn't spooning his girlfriend, and she cringed when he emitted an ear-splitting shriek of surprise to find himself in bed with a girl he probably didn't even recall the name of. Throwing himself backward, he skidded across the sheets away from her until he fell out of bed and Hermione couldn't hold back the absolute howls of laughter.

She imagined that, at some point, Lily Evans might confront her about this moment, but it would be entirely worth it just to see that look of horror and panic on James's stricken face.

"Who the bloody hell are…." James began. "Wait… Hermione? I'm in bed with… Hermione? Why? Fuck! Lily is going to  _kill_  me! Tell me we didn't have sex last night? Please tell me I just got fall down drunk, made an arse of myself and couldn't get it up?"

Hermione's laughter was soon joined by that of a hungover sounding Sirius Black, whose gleeful chortles from the next room were well worth the headache induced by James's shriek.

"Is that any way to talk to a lady you sweet talked into bed with you, Prongs?" Sirius called out while James grew steadily paler and more terrified looking until he looked like he might actually cry or faint, whichever came first.

"Please tell me I didn't?" he breathed, watching Hermione get out of bed and stretch languidly in her tank top and shorts. "Shit. You've got a love-bite. What the fuck have I  _done_?"

He actually looked like he was about to cry and Hermione took pity on him.

"Come on, superstar," she said, offering him a hand to help him to his feet. "Let's get you through the shower and on your way to practice before you sob all over my floor."

"He's sobbing?" Sirius cried gleefully, a thump and the sound of scrabbling feet following before Sirius appeared in the open doorway.

He looked like hell, no matter how pretty he was. Blood-shot eyes, hair all in a mess, his jeans rumpled and his shirt nowhere in sight, Sirius looked like the incarnation of a God of Hangovers.

"You… you let me… Pads!" James said, his chin actually trembling.

"Oh, for goodness sake! Pull it together, Potter," Hermione sighed. "You didn't cheat on your bloody girlfriend unless cheating constitutes drooling all over my bloody pillow, you big lout. Get up off that floor this minute and get your scrawny arse into that shower so you aren't late for work or so help me, I'll  _tell_  Evans you rocked my world!"

James looked like he didn't know if he should be relieved he hadn't betrayed Lily, annoyed at being bossed around, or horrified that she'd lie just to get him in trouble.

Sirius was positively howling with laughter now, having to grip the doorframe to maintain his balance as James's expression raced through several emotions.

"Shower, Potter! Now!" Hermione snapped her fingers at him, used to handling Harry's bewilderment in the mornings and thus having no trouble dealing with one panicked and hungover James Potter.

"Blimey, witch," James groused. "Where's my bloody shirt? Padfoot, I'm going to get you for this, mate. See if I don't. Where's my  _fucking_  shirt? I have to get to practice. I have to find Lily and ask her to marry me, for real this time, before anything like this ever happens again. I…"

His words trailed off as he shoved Sirius out of his way and raced into the bathroom, not pausing to remember that this wasn't his flat in his haste. He was naked, and the water was running before Sirius managed to get up off the floor, Hermione having stepped over him to reach the kitchen. She was still giggling to herself when she spotted Peter stirring on the couch, apparently not having awoken to James's screaming.

"Urgh!" he groaned just in time to fall off the couch. Hermione sniggered as she began fixing a pot of tea and cooking a stack of toast to feed the hungry young men before they could be on their way.

"You alright, mate?" Sirius was still chortling as he joined Hermione in the kitchen, still looking like hell and still shirtless. He snatched up a piece of dry toast and accepted the mug of tea she made for him with a peck on the cheek for Hermione.

"Where the hell…?" Peter began, unaccustomed to falling on the floor. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Where are we, Padfoot?"

"Granger's flat," Sirius grinned. "Come get some toast and a cuppa, mate. Prongs is almost done in the shower. You better get on home and use ours or you'll be late for work, too."

"What about you?" Peter asked, stumbling into the kitchen, similarly shirtless. Hermione noted idly that both Marauders had the same tattoo James had, their four animal forms silhouetted across the entire expanse of their backs. Sirius had a number of bites and claw-marks too, no doubt from fighting with Remus at the full moon.

"I'll follow James through, unless Hermione minds having us invade her bathroom as well as her spare bed?"

"Have at it, Sirius," Hermione said around a yawn. "I don't have to be downstairs for work until half-eight. Didn't you say you've got training this morning at eight?"

"Ah, shit!" Sirius groaned, his eyes going wide just as James came racing out into the living room, his hair sopping wet, his glasses askew and his shirt on inside-out.

"Prongs! Breakfast, love," Hermione called when he made a beeline for the fireplace. "And I packed all of you lunch."

She fished their lunches from the fridge, setting them on the counter.

"Bloody hell, woman," Sirius said, grinning at her. "Marry me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"We agreed that you're too pretty for me, Black," Hermione smiled at him gently. "But you're sweet to offer."

"Anytime you change your mind, you let me know. I could get used to this."

"What? Breakfast you didn't have to make and a packed lunch for your day at work?" Hermione chuckled. "I didn't know it was so easy to please you."

"Any time you want to learn more exciting things about how to please me, Treasure, you let me know, yeah?" he winked at her.

"Gods, you never stop," she laughed. "Get in the shower and introduce yourself to the toothpaste before I'm forced to tell all those pretty little twits you want to bed just how unattractive the morning after looks."

Sirius clutched at his heart as though she'd wounded him, though his eyes glittered with mischief even as he walked backward in the direction of the shower.

"You… made me lunch?" Peter asked in a small voice from behind her when Hermione waved Sirius away. James was munching down his toast so fast he was going to make himself sick. Peter, on the other hand, was sipping a cup of tea and holding the packed lunch loosely in his free hand, eyeing her like she was some magical beast he'd never seen before.

"It's just corned-beef and pickles," Hermione said, looking down for a moment. "And there's some fruit in there too, in case you need a snack before lunch. I… well, I'd have thrown in some sweet biscuits or a slice of cake, but I haven't had the chance to bake any yet."

Peter looked momentarily stricken, like he might cry at the idea of anyone being so nice to him, and Hermione hated herself, and him, just a little when she felt a sympathetic twist of her heart inside her chest. He looked so touched by the idea of anyone packing him lunch that he might actually cry.

"I… thank you," Peter said quietly. "You really didn't have to go to any trouble."

"Why  _did_  you go to the trouble? James asked around a mouthful of toast. "You don't… um… feel obligated or… or anything, right?"

"James Potter, you and I did not have sex! Stop looking so bloody worried, take your lunch and get going before you miss practice!" Hermione admonished, putting her hands on her hips.

"I… Sorry about this morning," he said, frowning. "I didn't mean to… I thought you were Lily… I… bloody hell."

His cheeks flushed pink as he threw back his cup of tea in two long slurps.

"Yeah, yeah," Hermione laughed. "Like you're the first bloke to grind his morning wood on my arse. Get, if you're going, before I smack you for being too adorable!"

James looked startled before he chuckled, shaking his head and accepting the lunch bag she held out to him with his name scrawled on it. He pecked her on the cheek as he went by, still chuckling as he muttered his thanks, before hurrying to the fireplace to Floo home.

It occurred to Hermione, belatedly, that Remus wasn't up yet, and she found herself alone in the kitchen with Peter. She glanced over at him as she buttered some toast for herself, finding his beady little eyes on her. He looked guarded, but perhaps hopeful that they could be friends.

"Thanks for… letting us crash here," he said politely. "And for feeding us. And making us lunch. And letting the lads use your shower."

"It's not a problem, Peter," Hermione said softly. "It's just nice not to be here all alone."

Peter looked startled by her words.

"You could… get some flatmates," he suggested, apparently trying to be helpful. "If you don't like living here alone, that is. Not that you have to, but if you were worried about it, I'm sure there are people who'd love to live above Diagon Alley."

He was babbling. Hermione suspected she made him nervous.

"I should… um… get going," he muttered, his cheeks turning pink. "Got to shower before work, and all. Um, thanks again for last night, and breakfast. And lunch. And I'm gonna go, before I talk your ear off and get myself hexed."

In spite of herself, Hermione smiled fondly at the blond wizard.

He nodded to her quickly, turned away like he meant to leave, and then turned back, closing the distance between the two of them and throwing his arms around her in brief but tight embrace. Hermione was so startled, and he did it so quickly, that she barely had time to awkwardly pat his back before he let go, scuttled to the couch to grab his shirt, and disappeared into the fireplace, his shirt in one hand and his bag of lunch in the other.

Hermione shook her head to herself, frowning and wondering where Remus was and how she would ever reconcile hugging the man she intended to murder. Sirius could be heard whistling jauntily from the shower and Hermione sighed softly, realising it was the same tune she used to hear him whistle when he was in a good mood at Grimmauld Place before he'd died. Flicking her wand to tidy the kitchen after the rush of feeding the three boys, Hermione heard the taps shut off in the bathroom before Sirius appeared, looking a little healthier, his hair drenched.

"You're bloody brilliant, Treasure," he told her when she handed him his lunch bag.

Hermione squealed when he took it, sat it right back on the counter, took hold of her shoulders and dipped her low before planting a wet but mercifully minty kiss upon her lips.

"Get off, would you?" Hermione laughed, swatting at him in protest when he attempted to snog her and earned a bitten lip for his trouble.

"Feisty little thing, aren't you?" he laughed, righting her just as quickly. "Thanks for putting us up and feeding us, Granger. I mean it. And do me a favour, yeah? Wake Moony? A little at a time? He's a right beast in the mornings."

There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he winked at her, took his lunch and strolled over to the Floo before disappearing in a roar of green flames. Hermione shook her head, wiping at her mouth to get the taste of him off her lips. She glanced at her watch before blanching. She and Remus would both be late if she didn't manage to drag him out of bed soon.

Hurrying toward the spare bedroom, Hermione let herself into the room, finding Remus stretched on his stomach, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed, his back bared thanks to the way the sheet barely covered his arse. She blinked to find he had the same tattoo as his friends, taking up his entire back, though his looked a little ragged thanks to the number of other scars crisscrossing the coloured patches of flesh. He had his head under his pillow.

"Remus?" she asked, approaching cautiously. "You need to get up, love. You've got to be at work in thirty minutes."

She strolled closer, leaning over to shake his shoulder to wake him. Hermione screamed when his arm shot up and around her, as he flipped and dragged her across his chest and planted her on her back in the middle of the bed, his fangs bared and his eyes feral as he snarled at her viciously. Merlin, he did  _not_  take being woken up lightly.

Hermione blinked at him, letting her body go lax with submission even as she tingled at the feel of being pinned under him so deliciously. He blinked at her when she stopped squealing. For a moment he looked confused, his brain not entirely awake yet. His fangs disappeared so quickly that if she hadn't known to be looking for them, she surely wouldn't have spotted them. His eyes shifted back to their human shade of mossy green and he pulled back just far enough to take in who she was.

He didn't speak as he registered her identity, he simply leaned down and snogged her hotly. Hermione whimpered against his lips when his tongue swept into her mouth, her hands fisting in his hair and her body arching subconsciously beneath his. Remus growled softly as he broke from her lips to lick, nip and kiss his way down the length of her throat, scrambling her thoughts instantly.

She gasped breathlessly as he kissed his way across her collarbone, down her chest, and nuzzled her tank-top out of the way before his hot mouth engulfed her right nipple. Her mind went blank with need and she moaned softly as he used the tip of his tongue to work her pebbled nipple against the ribbed roof of his mouth. Her whole body was on fire with heat and desire and a need so fierce that she ached for him. She could feel his morning erection pressed against her thigh through the jeans he'd slept in, rubbing insistently, hot even through the fabric.

Morgana's crows, she wanted him.

He lifted off her just enough to slide his hand between their bodies, his fingers seeking, questing, burrowing beneath the waistband of her loose-fitting shorts and into her knickers.

"Sweet Syracuse,  _Remus_!" Hermione whined breathlessly when he boldly smoothed his fingers against the silky skin of her mons, his thumb finding and pressing her clit in slow circles that made her forget how to think.

_I must be dreaming_ , she thought mindlessly as he released one nipple with a hot swipe of his tongue, only to latch onto the other one, gently nipping the peak with his too-sharp teeth and drawing a ragged cry from deep inside her just as he drove two fingers into the slick heat of her quim. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her mind trying to keep up as her body was overcome with sensations while he swiped his thumb repeatedly against her clit, driving her mad with need, winding her tighter and tighter, like a wind-up toy he couldn't wait to set loose.

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, cradling his head as he took his sweet time plucking her strings of pleasure like a talented minstrel. Arching into the touch as his fingers beckoned deep inside of her, writhing and swiping over her special spot so fast and so sure, she was certain she'd plummet off the deep end and into an abyss of bliss she'd never known. His free hand burrowed under the small of her back, forcing her to arch up, pressing her body more insistently upon his wicked fingers and Hermione was sure she would splinter.

Desperately she slipped a hand free of his hair, skimming it over his strong shoulders and down his back before curling it around his hip and burrowing it into the still open jeans he wore low on his hips. He growled around her nipple when she wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her eyes widened when she felt just how big he was. She'd had an idea, of course, but sweet Circe, the man was hung.

Primal instinct and rushing endorphins prevented all rational thought as she gripped him tight, working her hand up and down when she managed to free him from the confines of his jeans. He growled again, louder this time, the sensation vibrating through her breast and sending spears of pleasure directly to her core that would push her over the edge.

"Oh, gods, Remus!" Hermione whined breathily when her body clenched and then spasmed, everything pulling taut and snapping free as he brought her off.

His triumphant chuckle was pure sin as she gushed upon his fingers, her mind empty but for euphoric delight and pure bliss even as she kept working her hand over his rigid cock hungrily. He gripped her hand upon him gently, re-positioning her slightly and working her to a slower, more lingering rhythm. Hermione mewled when he licked her nipple once more before climbing back up her body to claim her lips in a slow, sensual kiss. She stroked him languidly, twitching and pulsing with every twist of his fingers inside her and he nipped her lip when his breathing hitched.

"Fuck!" he hissed, his mouth leaving hers with a low expletive groaned against her jaw.

Hermione watched him through half-lidded eyes as she slowly brought him off, enjoying the way his cheeks flushed with colour and his eyes threaded gold as his hips jerked. Thrusting himself against her hand, Remus growled softly again before a low whine tore from his lips and his head tipped back as he came, stickiness coating her hand.

Belatedly, Hermione recalled that she wanted to be more than a casual hook up to him and she sighed as he rested his forehead against the middle of her chest for a long moment, catching his breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked hoarsely a minute later, lifting his head to peer at her.

"I'm perfect," Hermione purred, slowly releasing his cock and smiling contentedly. Her tongue ran away from her brain before she could stop it, blurting out things she didn't mean to say. "Can I be the one to wake you every morning from now on?"

Remus shot her a sexy, contented smile before lifting himself off of her as she blushed. Her hand was sticky, she realised when he moved, and he reached for it to clean it for her but before he could, Hermione brought it to her mouth. She didn't even really think about it. Remus's eyes were fixed on her like he'd devour her when her little pink tongue darted out to lick the sticky come from her palm.

"Bloody hell," he groaned softly, watching her clean her hand almost absently. "You'll be the death of me, Granger. I swear it."

Hermione squeaked when he took her hand from her mouth and claimed her lips hungrily all over again. If he minded the taste of himself on her tongue, he didn't show it. She almost lost herself in the kiss too, until she felt his hands sliding her shorts down over her hips like he meant to remove them so he could have his wicked way with her and Hermione caught his wrists.

"We're both going to be late for work," she muttered against his lips.

"Ah, shit!" Remus cursed, his whole body tensing. Evidently, he'd forgotten he had a job to get to.

"Off," she laughed when he glanced between her face and the door rapidly, as though debating whether it was worth being late on his first day. "Quickly, before you distract me all over again. You need breakfast. And a shower."

"I don't have time," he muttered even as he rolled off of her, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went.

Hermione sat up, fighting the urge she had to wrap herself around his back when he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to wake up and trying to regain some semblance of self-control as he reached for his shirt. She slipped off the side of the bed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as she stood, before hurrying out the door.

"There's breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen, and your lunch is packed and waiting on the counter, Remus," she called over her shoulder, hurrying into her own room and ripping her tank top off over her head before stepping out of her shorts.

Hermione spun in a circle, searching for a bra and something decent to wear to work. She hadn't been given a uniform for the job, so she'd have to wing it. Settling for a pair of snug-fitting bell-bottom jeans she'd bought whilst shopping the day before and a pink collared shirt with a navy cardigan over it, she figured Mr Blott would tell her if it was no good and she'd just be able to run back up the stairs to change.

She was wriggling into her jeans, topless, when she heard Remus groan from the doorway. Glancing over, Hermione clapped her hands over her boobs when she found him, piece of toast in one hand, his eyes fixed upon her half-naked form, and heat glittering in his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," she warned him. "Work. We have to get to work. Eat your breakfast and use a cleaning charm on yourself. You haven't got time to shower, now."

"I can't go into my job wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday," he argued.

"Wear this," Hermione said, summoning her beaded bag from the bedside table and digging inside it for one of the jumpers he'd once left at Grimmauld Place in the life she'd left behind. Grey and knitted, it would likely be a bit big on his lithe frame, but it would look nice.

"You just have clothes for men on hand in that magic little bag of yours, eh?" he asked, taking the blue button-up shirt she tossed him and pulling the grey cardigan over the top.

"If you don't want them, leave them here and go home for your own stuff," she rolled her eyes, noting the way he smelled the cardigan when she tossed it to him. She knew he'd wear it. His own scent clung to it, mixed with hers thanks to the number of times she'd worn it whilst on the run with Harry during the war. She'd liked feeling close to him when she wore it and the scent of himself would confuse Moony long enough that he'd cooperate.

"I don't look very professional," he pointed out when he was dressed.

"You're working in a shop selling cauldrons, Remus," Hermione rolled her eyes, hurrying past him out the door to brush her teeth. "And you look handsome."

"These are muggle clothes."

"Oh, they are not. Everything in the wizarding world is not billowing robes and stuffy suits. You look normal. You look good."

"You got a spare one of those?" he asked, following her into the bathroom and gulping down tea while she scrubbed her teeth.

Digging into her beaded bag once more, Hermione pulled out a packet of spare toothbrushes, having learned during the war that a freshly scrubbed set of teeth could make all the difference to one's mood, sometimes. She handed him a fresh brush and the paste, leaning over to spit in the sink and liking that he wasn't at all awkward about what they'd done in the bedroom.

He scrubbed his teeth clean beside her, looking mildly amused as she attempted to fight with the mess that was her hair. Hermione regretted having gone to bed with it wet. Sighing in annoyance, she settled for pulling it into a messy bun on the top of her head, leaving a few tendrils loose. She looked relaxed and comfortable, she decided when she regarded her appearance whilst spritzing some perfume on herself. And that was just fine. No one wanted a stuffy and uptight bookshop clerk. Relaxed, friendly and approachable was much more acceptable.

"Ready?" he asked, watching her put her shoes on in the living room while he grabbed both bags of their packed lunches.

"You want to exit through the shop?" Hermione offered nodding her assent as she slipped her shoes on.

"If that's alright? If not, I'll Floo to work."

"That's fine. Though Flooing is faster," she pointed out.

"I've got five minutes. The owner won't be there yet," he said, consulting his pocket-watch and making Hermione smile. She adored how comfortable he seemed with her.

"Come on, then," she said, taking his hand and tugging him out the door to the stairs that led down into the shop.

"Your boss won't mind the idea of you having some bloke wandering through the shop from your flat?" he asked. "I can take the other stairs directly to the street, if you'd prefer."

"Considering the fight Mr Blott had with his wife yesterday afternoon before shooing me out of the store, and the fact that he came back from lunch tipsy, I'd say he's probably too hungover this morning to arrive until at least ten," Hermione assured her favourite werewolf.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Hermione let them both into the shop, wincing when she noticed there were a number of books in the incorrect spot, having been thrown by Mrs Blott, she suspected.

Remus looked around, seeming surprised by the state of the shop, too.

"Lucky I'm early," Hermione muttered.

"You don't have to be here yet?" he asked, frowning at her. "We didn't drag you out of bed and out of your flat, did we? I could've taken the Floo if you didn't have to be here yet."

"I prefer to be here early in the event that things like this need handling before we open," Hermione shrugged, smiling at him. "And I wouldn't have been able to sleep after James screamed in my ear."

"Bloody git, he is," Remus nodded, eyeing her critically. "But you look like you could've done with another half hour's rest."

"You always know just what to say," Hermione rolled her eyes, teasing him.

"Right… Yeah, that was a bit out of order, I guess," he chuckled. "You don't look bad. Just tired."

"I look bad, Remus. I have done for a while. It's what happens when you function on less than four hours sleep a night. I'll catch up on the missed sleep eventually," Hermione waved his concerns away.

"I think you look nice," he assured her.

"Now you're just flattering me," she laughed. "Go on, before you're late on your first day." She nodded him out the door.

Remus eyed her curiously for a moment, his hand coming up to cup her cheek tenderly. Hermione nipped the pad of his thumb when he traced the shape of her lower lip affectionately. She liked the little growl of surprise that escaped him every time she did it. When he leaned down and captured her lips gently with his own, Hermione sighed softly. Minty fresh and delicious, she was sure she could spend all day long simply kissing him. He kissed her lightly, refraining from deepening the kiss and instead simply brushing his lips over hers repeatedly.

"Friday, you said?" he asked huskily when he pulled away. "Dinner?"

Hermione smiled, nodding, wondering if he would actually turn up.

"What are you planning to make?" he wanted to know, his lips twitching as though he were amused by something.

"Something I'm certain you'll like," Hermione replied, thinking of the number of times she'd watched him eat his favourite dish with delight. "If you turn up, that is."

Remus pulled back slowly, eyeing her.

"You don't think I will?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "But I will, potentially, fling something at you if you stand me up."

"Threats?" he laughed.

Hermione didn't reply, watching him pull away as he backed toward the door, needing to leave but apparently not wanting to just yet.

"You think I'll be able to stay away?" he lifted one eyebrow. "After that?"

He pointed toward the roof, obviously referring to what they'd done in her flat.

"Have a good first day, Remus," Hermione wished him rather than mentioning it, her cheeks cutting crimson at the reminder.

"I'll see you Friday,  _gealai_ ," he promised. "If not before."

Hermione watched him let himself out of the shop and hurry down the street, wondering if she dared to trust a hope that he'd keep his word.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thursday, 15th November, 1979 – 1:57PM_

**Diagon Alley, London**

The week passed slowly for Hermione, despite the flurry of working in the bookshop and settling herself into this new time. In many ways it was alarmingly easy to slip into the comfort of not constantly fearing an attack on her person, but in others it was downright difficult. She could hardly stand the sound of the doorbell in the shop, announcing someone new entering every time it rang. Indeed, the first day she'd worked, she'd silenced the silly thing.

It had backfired when not having it to announce the entrance of new customers resulted in her pulling her wand on more than one unsuspecting customer who 'snuck up on her'. That had been embarrassing. She'd done little other than work, if she was being honest. She worked in the shop, selling books, placing orders for new ones, drafting the proposal for an after-hours book service to give to Mr Blott and generally picking up on the gossip of the day.

At night she trained against the practice dummies in her flat and she baked enough biscuits and cakes and things to feed a small army. She attempted to recuperate some of the effects of the war upon her person, trying to make herself look less like a half-starved, sleep-deprived shell and more like a vivacious young witch in a new job. The urge to stroll down the Alley every day to see Remus was strong, but Hermione had resisted. She didn't want to come off as needy or as being obsessed with him, no matter that she was.

"Granger?" Mr Blott asked of her when the lunch rush for Thursday died off.

"Yes, Mr Blott?" Hermione asked of her boss, smiling at the wizard carefully. He'd been out of sorts all day and she suspected things on the front of his marriage and impending divorce were not going well.

"Do us a favour, yeah? Run down to the apothecary and grab some head-ache potions, could you? And some hang-over cures, if they have them?" he asked, clutching at his head as though it pained him.

"Of course, sir," Hermione smiled.

"It's time for your lunch break anyway, so take your time, love. Just bring those back with you, when you come. Take some money from the register to buy them."

Hermione nodded, watching him fish a few Galleons from the cash register and hand them over. She accepted them willingly enough, pleased that she would be able to get some lunch and that the trip would ensure she could purchase some of the herbs and ingredients she needed to begin some of her own brewing projects. She'd been meaning to duck down there but kept forgetting or being distracted by things in the bookshop.

Fetching her coat from the hook in the back, Hermione pulled it on, wrapping her scarf around her neck before exiting the bookshop and hurrying down the street. She was in the mood for a nice warm pasty, so she stopped at the bakery and then the coffee shop, ordering a pumpkin pasty and a hot chocolate. Again, she fought the urge to buy one for Remus when the idea popped into her head. She ate her food as she wandered the alley, marvelling at the life and the character of it all in this time compared to the deserted stores and empty streets she recalled of her own time.

The people were a little suspicious, occasionally, and Aurors patrolled inconspicuously.

"Going somewhere, treasure?" a voice asked as she was strolling past Madam Malkin's. The feel of someone's arm being flung casually around her shoulders brought the faintest hint of a grin to her lips and Sirius Black winced slightly at the feel of her wand tip poking him in the ribs.

"You really do have very sharp reflexes," he complimented, glancing down at the wand.

"And yet you continue to sneak up on me," Hermione smiled, turning her head to look at him.

"I hate to see a pretty witch traversing the alley alone, love," Sirius smirked cockily.

"Your bosses still have you watching me because they think I'm dodgy, huh?" Hermione grinned. This wasn't the first time since their weekend drinking session that she'd encountered Sirius in the alley. Indeed, he seemed almost to go out of his way at times, in order to speak to her. Hermine couldn't say she minded, given that she'd had little chance or inclination to make any other friends since her arrival.

"It's that haunted look in your eyes and the way you're always scanning your surroundings for danger," Sirius told her, steering her toward a nearby pretzel stall that had been set up in the alley by a street-stall vendor. He bought them one each, apparently intending to have a chat with her. Hermione smirked softly to herself. She'd found that before Azkaban had so tainted his life, Sirius Black was young, effervescent, sarcastic and exceedingly charismatic. She understood completely why witches the world over swooned for him and why they all longed to be the girl on his arm.

She also knew exactly why he'd latched onto her so easily, beyond the fact that she'd rejected him in favour of fancying Remus. He seemed to have decided that any witch interested in one of his best friends enough to ignore his charms must surely be someone decent. He also seemed to be confirming that she wasn't a psychopath intent on harming Remus. Hermione didn't mind. The bite Remus had left on her shoulder so long ago, before the war had ended in her time, had linked to her others bearing his bite as members of his pack, she suspected. She got the feeling that all four Marauders had been so comfortable with her over the weekend, despite having only technically met that very day, as a result of the pack-bond between all of them.

"I don't look haunted," Hermione protested, pretending to be ignorant of her ragged appearance.

"You do, treasure," Sirius assured her. "Like a kid who's spent too many nights on the lookout for a wild backhand coming his way. I know the look, love, and you've got it. You're on edge whenever you're in public and those quick reflexes of yours tell a tale, all their own. Knowing what I know about certain parts of your anatomy, I'd reckon you're right to be wary, but it makes you look dodgy."

"And you've come to quiz me some more on my background?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, came to warn you, actually," Sirius said, handing her a pretzel before he took her hot chocolate out of her hands, drinking out of the cup without thinking about it.

Hermione smirked, recognizing what he'd just done, even if he didn't. She'd been thinking about how comfortable the Marauders had seemed with her at the pub and at her flat, and she'd realised that the night Remus had bitten her shoulder in the time she'd travelled back from, he'd marked her as pack. Not with any intention of doing so, she suspected, but he'd done it just the same. As such, all four boys were strangely at ease in her presence.

Sirius paused when she watched him tip the cup to his lips a second time before he glanced at it, frowning a little. It was obvious that he was shocked that he'd just done something so personal and so rude as to take her drink from her and drink out of it without so much as wiping the top or seeking permission.

"Oh," he said, seeming surprised by his own actions. "Sorry about that. You probably think I'm a right barbarian."

"I don't mind sharing," Hermione smiled gently. "But the next one's on you."

"Done," Sirius smirked, drinking more of her hot chocolate before handing it back to her. "Now listen, about my warning. Prongs told Lily last night about how he slept in your bed and felt you up in his sleep, and she  _might_ be on a warpath to warn you away from her man."

"Delightful," Hermione grinned. "Should I expect shouting and fireworks, or just a 'stay away from my man' type of chat?"

"With Evans, you never can tell. Knowing Prongs, he'll have made it sound ten times worse than it actually was and she probably thinks you tried to steal James and that you threw yourself at him because the git won't have thought to mention that you fancy Moony, so she might threaten, she might hex, or she might just go straight to trying to rip your hair out. Anyway, she knows you work at the bookshop because James told her we stayed in your flat above it and just watch yourself, yeah?"

Hermione grinned to herself, rather pleased at the idea of meeting Lily Evans for the first time. More than once in the time she'd left, she recalled Remus muttering about how Harry had inherited Lily's quick temper and the idea of seeing those same eyes Harry had been born with only thrilled her all the more. She'd been positively aching to see her best friend since she'd used the time-turner and though it wouldn't be exactly the same, she rather looked forward to meeting Lily.

"Excellent," Hermione purred, a spring in her step as they continued to wander the alley.

"You're not terrified?" Sirius asked, raising one eyebrow. "If Lily thinks you tried to steal Prongs, she'll likely hex you, treasure. She's territorial, that one."

"Aren't we all?" Hermione grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Oi, if there's to be a catfight, I insist on being present," Sirius said. "A little girl-on-girl is therapeutic, in my opinion."

"Funny, I thought you were a fan of guy-on-guy," Hermione quipped.

Sirius stopped in his tracks, his eyes darting down to her face and his eyebrows lifting when she smiled innocently at him.

"You're trouble, Granger," he informed her. "One snog, witch. It was one bloody snog years ago and it got out of hand. That's it. Why does no one want to let me live it down?"

"Because you're such a womanizer," Hermione told him. "All the pretty witches who've revolved through your bed want to think that you must secretly be hot for James because otherwise they surely would've captured your heart when they spread their legs."

Sirius smirked, a low whistle leaving him.

"Smart one, aren't you?" he grinned. "And I hear you've a date with Moony tomorrow night, eh? Doing anything exciting?"

Hermione smiled gently.

"That will depend on Remus and whether or not he shows up," Hermione replied.

"You doubt his word?" Sirius asked, glancing down at her with one eyebrow quirked, completely ignoring the number of witches shooting Hermione dirty looks, obviously thinking he was with her.

Hermione ignored them all too, in the sense of pretending they weren't there whilst keeping a wary eye on all of them for a stray hex in the back. She didn't like to think about how she might react should a duel be instigated by one of them, given that she'd taught herself to fling nasty, incapacitating hexes and the odd Killing Curse thanks to a childhood of war.

"I'll believe it when I see it, let's put it that way," Hermione sighed. "I know Remus has a penchant for shagging witches over dating them – much like you, in fact – and I told him that if he wants to get into my knickers, he'd have to set aside his terror of dating anyone who might get close enough to figure out his secrets. If he turns up, excellent. If not, well, I guess there's always next week."

"You'd forgive him for standing you up?" Sirius asked, looking surprised. "Most of the witches he agrees to date usually spread their legs soon enough and then he's out of there."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, her eyes travelling over the sight of a witch and wizard who'd just stepped into the alley through the gaping maw of a stairwell that led down to the depths of Knockturn Alley. They looked like they were trying too hard to blend in and Hermione knew Sirius had spotted them, too, the minute she went tense, his gaze following hers.

His arm slipped from around her shoulders and his wand was in his hand though he continued to talk to her, obviously learning a thing or two in his Auror training about blending in better.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't be put out with him," Hermione said, as though they weren't both eyeing these shifty strangers like bombs about to explode. "But I am saying that I'm only too aware that offering a wolf fresh meat is no way to go about luring him to your side and keeping him there."

Sirius's eyes jerked from the potential Death Eaters down to her face at her reference to Remus as a wolf.

"If you want to lure a wolf," she went on, carefully shepherding a mother with three young children into a nearby store, the witch not even asking why she was being gestured back inside when she spied Hermione's expression and Sirius's MLE badge. "You don't throw out fresh meat. He'll take the easy meal and be on his way in search of more prey. To lure the wolf, you offer him your hand and you acclimatise him to your presence until he dares to wander close, curiosity getting the best of him."

Sirius was thoroughly distracted, and he almost missed it when the Death Eaters – whom Hermione suddenly recognised as a young Rabastan Lestrange and a young Alecto Carrow – suddenly began converging on a witch wandering down the alley.

The first Stunning spell left Hermione's wand silently, streaking down the alley and narrowly missing Lestrange. His head jerked up, away from the witch Alecto had gone after, his eyes narrowed, seeking the source of the spell. Hermione lobbed another one, but the man got off a Bombarda curse in the middle of the alley just before it connected with him. Hermione was already running down the alley toward him when the screaming started. Hurling more hexes, she dived around a wizard who fled for the cover of the nearest shop.

She had to get to the witch, not recognising the woman, but doubting her life would end happily should Carrow capture her. She hit Lestrange with another Stunner when she reached the spot where he'd sprawled, leaping over him and racing for Carrow.

The witch saw her coming, her eyes widening in obvious shock as Hermione began hexing her. The duel that sprung up between them lit the alley, bursts of magic bouncing off the walls and buildings while Carrow screeched in frustration when her target ran for cover. Hermione moved with the witch, hurrying after her, catching a Slicing hex across her upper arm from Carrow before returning fire with a Stinging jinx of her own. Carrow shrieked when it slipped past her shield charm before she spied the Aurors converging on her, having already detained Lestrange.

She turned on the spot and Disapparated. Hermione was already muttering healing charms as she dashed after the witch Carrow had been after.

"What's your name?" she demanded of the woman when she found her cowering behind an overturned herb cart.

"Esmerelda Bones," the woman gasped, pointing her wand at Hermione and looking terrified.

"Of course, it is," Hermione muttered. "Listen Ms Bones, do you know Albus Dumbledore?"

The woman nodded.

"Good. I want you to go to him and I want you to tell him that you were targeted by Death Eaters today. I want you to ask him to help hide your family. You've done something to capture their attention, I'm afraid, and they won't rest until your whole family is dead, do you understand?"

The witch's mouth opened and closed dumbly, her eyes wide.

"Who are you?" Bones whispered.

"I'm a friend," Hermione whispered. "One who'd very much like to see you live out the coming year; seek out Dumbledore. Be careful who you trust, but trust him."

Before the Aurors could converge on her, Hermione hurried away once more, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone who might've been watching or might've seen her chase Esmerelda. Everyone was too busy watching Lestrange be arrested while Ministry workers began arriving, checking over the Alley for anyone who'd been injured and trying to control the situation. Sirius was in the thick of it, having remanded Lestrange into MLE custody himself.

Hermione caught him scanning the area, trying to figure out where she'd gone but she hurried away, not wanting to be questioned on her actions or associated with the crime that had just taken place. The less attention she drew to herself whilst still managing to save lives, the better.

Instead of lingering, Hermione hurried up the alley in the direction of the Apothecary, noticing that most people were now peering out of shops, trying to see what was going on. When she entered, the store seemed empty and Hermione wondered if they'd managed to hire a shop-person or a brewer yet. The little bell above the door tinkled as she made her way inside and Hermione picked up a basket, knowing she was going to need it.

The shelves of the dusty store were lined with jars of potion ingredients, ranging from things as common as mint, to things as rare as Acromantula venom. No one hurried out to offer her assistance, making Hermione wonder if the store was supposed to be closed, but she chose to gather those ingredients she needed, placing them all in her basket as she went. She'd been consulting her textbooks – those form the future – regarding a number of potions ranging from Pain potions and other healing aids, to the things she might need if she were to attempt Wolfsbane for Remus.

Not that she believed he'd be willing to take it when he didn't actually know, yet, that she knew he was a werewolf. If she was being honest, she was terrified over the idea of having him over for their date. She suspected he would stand her up at the last minute, not trusting himself not to give away his condition and not willing to risk the type of relationship forming that might challenge his ideals about how he was a monster and how he might infect, harm or otherwise draw ostracization upon whichever witch he might date.

She was preparing herself mentally for the rejection she expected she would feel if he stood her up, but she was also extremely hopeful that she might manage to lure him into at least one date. After all, one date might be enough to convince her into bed with him and she suspected, with the moon waxing once more, that Remus might give it a shot at the very least. She'd made no secret of her attraction to him; that was certain.

Just as she was perusing the ingredients in the front window of the shop, a flash of vibrant red from the street outside drew her eyes and Hermione's eyes widened when she spied a girl who simply  _had_  to be Lily Evans. She stomped down the street looking like she was on a warpath, in fact, and Hermione got the feeling the witch might be looking for her, having perhaps spoken to Mr Blott to get an idea of where she might be.

Hermione glanced down at herself for a moment, suddenly self-conscious. The witch was beautiful, Hermione realised; far more beautiful than she was herself. Wincing when she spotted the rip in her sleeve and the stain of fresh blood, crimson against the fabric, Hermione realised she was not currently in the right frame of mind to be shouted at, hexed, or threatened by an unknowingly pregnant Lily Evans. And even if the woman didn't know it herself, she was pregnant, Hermione was certain.

"Shit," she muttered, hurrying toward the back of the shop when Lily climbed the steps. In her haste, Hermione rounded the counter and ducked into the back room – a brewing station - paying little mind to the wizard standing over the bubbling cauldron there.

She ducked behind the wizard, in fact, only thinking of him in the sense of using him as a shield should Evans follow her into the back room.

"What do you think you are doing?" an alarmingly familiar voice asked her as she set down her basket behind the workbench and ducked behind him. Or tried to.

He spun on her, wand drawn, aiming it at her.

"Snape?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening as her gaze jerked from the doorway where a bell had sounded in the main room, to collide with a pair of suspicious onyx eyes.

"Hello?" Lily called from the main room. "Is there anyone here?"

Snape's lip curled, and his eyes widened even as his sallow face paled. Hermione pulled out her own wand, surreptitiously pointing it at the man, suspecting that by this point in time he was probably very much a marked and active Death Eater.

"Evans?" he breathed, his eyes wide.

"I'm hiding from her," Hermione confessed in a whisper. "Don't let her back here, yeah? She's going to start a fight with me."

"What did you do to her?" Snape asked, his eyes sliding back down to meet hers in confusion and suspicion.

Hermione smirked at him. "She thinks I slept with her boyfriend."

Snape actually recoiled in disgust over the very idea.

"Hello, Miss?" a friendly sounding voice came from beyond the brewing station. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Was there a girl with curly hair in here just now?" Evans asked.

"Not to my knowledge, dear. Let me just check in the back with our brewer," the voice said, and Hermione squeaked when Snape suddenly lowered his wand, seized her shoulders and forced her down to squat on the floor behind his work bench.

"Ah, Severus, there you are," the voice said. "Haven't seen a girl with curly hair, have you?"

Snape didn't actually speak, just made like he'd been brooding over his cauldron.

"Severus?" she heard Lily say from the front room. Hermione watched Snape stiffen beside her at the sound of her saying his name.

"No one's been back here," Snape sneered coldly. "And even if they had been, it's hardly our trade to pass on such information. If the witch in the front room seeks a potion for some ailment, we may assist her. All other matters are her own."

Hermione shivered at the icy tone in his voice, usually reserved only for when he spoke to Harry, in Hermione's experience. She'd forgotten how cold he could truly be, and she was grateful that his current fury with Evans, in addition to his doubtless curiosity about Hermione herself, meant he was willing to lie for her.

Hermione heard what sounded suspiciously like a sniff of disdain from the front room, Lily having apparently overheard Snape. While the shop-lady went back to dealing with Lily, Hermione stood slowly, peeking into the cauldron Snape was brewing over.

"Calming Draught?" she guessed based on his ingredients and the sheen on the potion.

Snape glared at her.

"You shagged  _Potter_? You? He tossed  _her_ off for  _you_?" he sneered. Hermione suspected he knew how offensive he was being but didn't care.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione rolled her eyes. Picking up the silver knife he'd been using and swiftly dicing the lemongrass he needed for the next step of the potion if he wanted to avoid botching it thanks to the distraction she made. "I said she  _thinks_  I shagged James. I didn't actually. He just slept in my bed when that lot camped at my flat the other night after we'd all had a few too many drinks."

Snape curled his lip, looking beyond furious when she began adding the diced lemongrass, using the glass stirring rod to stir it in, counter-clockwise stirring on every seventh turn, the way he'd once taught her in Potions. He narrowed his eyes on her coldly before snatching the stirring rod.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "You let the likes of Potter into your bed? Who the bloody hell are you, anyway? I wasn't aware those bastards had any other female friends barring those revolving through Black's bed."

"Oh," Hermione smiled, pretending she'd forgotten her manners. "I'm Hermione."

She offered her hand to him to shake, almost laughing at the way he eyed it like she might've just tried to hand him a dead fish. He didn't shake her hand, choosing to eye her coldly instead and Hermione smirked all the more, amused by him.

"I remember you from Hogwarts," she went on. "Thanks for hiding me. I know she used to… ah… be a friend of yours."

"You weren't at Hogwarts with me," he said, sounding absolutely positive in the most arrogant way that only Severus Snape seemed able.

"I was," Hermione assured him. "The year ahead of you lot. Gryffindor. I kept my head down, though. You wouldn't remember me."

He narrowed his eyes on her. Hermione wondered if he would let it go.

"Actually, while I'm here, I could use your expertise," she said. "I'm brewing a small project potion at home and I need a stabiliser for a potion that uses Tentacular leaves. Obviously, alcohol is out, and I was torn between using a diffusion of monkshood, or a tisane of dittany and mandrake leaves."

Hermione would never be able to fully express her pleasure over the way Severus Snape actually blinked at her, for once seeming utterly shocked by something she'd said.

"Why ask me?" he frowned.

"Aren't you the brewer for this Apothecary?" Hermione smiled. "Seems an odd place to brew if you're not."

"Who  _are_  you?" he demanded, training his wand on her once more and Hermione sighed.

"I already introduced myself, Snape. Try to curb your suspicious nature for a few minutes to dispense potioneering expertise, would you? I know you know which would be better. I was leaning toward the tisane, but the potion also calls for bubotuber pus and I rather think it might bind to the dittany a little too well, turning it to glop. But using the monkshood base has the potential to explode in my face unless the dosage is exact and as I've no recipe to follow given it's an experiment, I'd rather not risk my eyebrows."

"You're a babbler," he informed her coldly after a moment of staring and Hermione smiled slowly, surprised he hadn't told her to shove it and thrown her out of his lab.

"I know," Hermione nodded. "Do you have a suggestion for the potion, or not?"

"Why would I help you?" he wanted to know.

"Out of the goodness of your heart. And because it's a Potion intended to punish James Potter for tattling on me to his girlfriend  _without_  clarifying that I didn't bloody shag him."

His lips twitched like he might smile.

"What's the purpose of the potion?"

"To make his junk shrivel like a geriatric's until he learns to be more specific when tattling on me to Evans, to prevent her from hexing me over something I didn't do," Hermione smirked.

"With Tentactular leaves?" he frowned. "Shrivel fig would be more effective."

"That would cause permanent damage," Hermione sighed. "This is supposed to be temporary. I'd hate to needlessly punish Lily, too."

Snape eyed her for a long moment in silence.

"You're asking the wrong person. I'd gleefully poison that tosser," he confessed.

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I was afraid of that," she said. "Well, it sounds like Evans is gone, anyway. So… thanks for hiding me, I guess."

He didn't say anything before adding more ingredients to his potion, eyeing her over the rim of it like maybe she was some strange rune he'd come across and was trying to decipher. Hermione smiled slowly at him for a long moment, unable to keep from smirking over his younger appearance.

Prior to the war and twenty years of teaching stress, he was still ugly as sin, but there was a certain sparkle in his eyes that amused her. In the time she'd known him, he'd seemed dead inside but for the glee he derived from taunting Gryffindor students and making people feel stupid. This version of him still had life and a vindictive streak a mile long, she'd bet.

"You're very interesting, Severus Snape," Hermione informed him as she picked up her basket once more. "I mean it, thanks for hiding me rather than throwing me out of here."

He narrowed his eyes on her as she made for the door. Just before she could leave, she heard his low, sinful voice.

"A tincture of hellebore and bergamot would stabilise the potion as long as you avoid using mugwort," he said quietly, watching her from behind those twin curtains of dark hair.

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it herself. "Thank you."

"Mhmm," he hummed, smirking wickedly at her for a moment before looking away, back at his potion. Hermione got the feeling that the wizard might be more than a little wicked right now, but the man she knew he could one day prove to be was in there.

As she paid for her items in the front room, Hermione found herself eyeing the door to the lab speculatively, thinking that she might just have to see what she could do about ensuring he never overheard the Prophecy to unwittingly sell out James and Lily. She might have to see what she could do about his being a Death Eater, too.


	10. Chapter Ten

_Friday, 16th November, 1979._

**Hermione's Flat, London**

The entire bookshop smelled fantastic thanks to the roast she'd been slow-cooking all day long. Her customers had exclaimed over the scent wafting through the shop, many of them complaining of hunger as they made their purchases. Mr Blott had been rather amused by the number of cookbooks she'd sold as a result, and Hermione had chuckled her way through the day, attempting to distract from the butterflies rioting in her stomach and trying to quash the voices in her head telling her that Remus was going to stand her up.

When she'd finally closed up the shop for the night she'd hurried up the stairs to her flat, putting on the vegetables to roast, preparing the chocoholic's nirvana of a dessert she was making just for Remus, and bouncing through the shower. She was in the middle of trying to find something decent and pretty to wear that didn't have holes in it and hadn't been through hell and back during the war – no easy feat – when the doorbell rang and Hermione panicked.

She and Remus had never actually agreed on a time, but surely six-thirty was a little early, wasn't it?

"Oh, no," Hermione muttered, turning in a circle, dressed only in her underwear, trying to settle on the best option of clothing from the pile on the floor.

The doorbell rang a second time and she dived toward a sundress with a floaty skirt and little blue flowers printed all over it.

"COMING!" she shouted in the direction of the door, expecting that Remus could likely hear her scuttling about. Wriggling into the dress, Hermione paired it with one of the cardigan's Molly had knitted her, pulling the soft purple sleeves up her arms and leaving her feet bare as she hurried for the door. She dashed by the mirror and skidded to a stop when she caught sight of her hair.

Amid her tension, her magic had sent it haywire and it was sticking up all over the place.

"Oh, bollocks!" Hermione cursed. "Really?"

Another ring on the doorbell, followed by insistent knocking had Hermione narrowing her eyes on the door even as she used her wand to try and charm the frizz out of her hair, rather unsuccessfully.

"I'm coming, I said! Honestly, Remus, it's not as though you can't bloody hear me panicking," she said from inside the flat even as she made for the door.

Pulling it open, Hermione's brow furrowed when, instead of a dashing and sheepish looking Remus Lupin, the landing showed an annoyed looking redhead with brilliant green eyes who was glaring at her. Beyond her stood an exasperated and sheepish looking James Potter, ruffling his hair with his free hand before rubbing the back of his neck and eyeing Hermione apologetically.

"Well," Hermione said, blinking at Lily Evans in surprise and thinking on her feet of a way that she was going to avoid the impending violence she could see brewing in Lily's green eyes. "Not exactly who I was expecting."

"Oh, and just who were you expecting?" Lily demanded without introducing herself. Her green eyes scanned Hermione from head to foot, her top lip curling in fury and Hermione knew it was wrong to provoke a pregnant woman, but she couldn't help it when she spied Lily's judgemental expression.

"Honestly, James," Hermione sighed, looking past Lily and pretending the other witch hadn't spoken, knowing it would provoke her as much as it had always provoked Hermione herself when someone directly and pointedly ignored her and spoke over or around her. "When I invited you around for a booty call, I didn't expect you to bring your bloody girlfriend. Evans, love, you're pretty, but I've sworn off redheads."

Lily's face filled with rage while James's head snapped up in horror, his hazel eyes wide behind his glasses and a splutter upon his lips.

"You WHAT?" Lily screeched.

Hermione sniggered, turning away from the door and strolling back toward the kitchen when the oven dinged to indicate that the vegetables needed to be turned.

"I said I'm off redheads, Evans," Hermione said over her shoulder. "But it's fine, I suppose. Come on in, we can make this work."

She knew it was wrong to tease the pair of them, but she just couldn't resist. Not when she was already so nervous about her date with Remus and not when Lily was obviously so close to boiling over into a rage worthy of any Harry Potter tantrum.

"Lily, darling, she's joking," James assured her. "Honest, love. She thinks she's funny, but she's just having you on. She's got a date with Remus and we're obviously interrupting. Really, there's no need to be here."

"You slept with her, Potter!" Lily snarled at her boyfriend.

Hermione actually began to laugh from the kitchen, knowing she was only making things worse while Lily Evans stomped into her flat and James followed her, leaving the door open as though thinking he might need to make a quick exit.

"What is so funny?" Lily rounded on Hermione. "You think it's something to laugh over? Stealing people's boyfriends is funny to you?"

"Lils, honest, you're making a mistake," James tried to tell you.

"YOU STAY OUT OF THIS, POTTER!" Lily shouted at her boyfriend.

"Look, I've got neighbours," Hermione pretended to fret, having silenced the flat when she moved in and warded the place, knowing that even if she set Remus loose in the place on a full moon, no one would hear a sound. "And they're still right cross with me after the amount of noise we made last weekend, Prongs."

"Hermione, you're really not helping," James told her, frowning.

"Oh, she calls you  _Prongs_?" Lily snarled, spinning to glare at her boyfriend.

"Look, love, it was just a couple of drinks with the lads, you know? And you know how they are. I guess the name just stuck."

"Probably because _she_  was screaming it all bloody night."

"With Moony and Pads here, love?" James raised his eyebrows. "I don't think so. You know how they are about sex sounds."

Lily stomped her foot, in full tantrum now, and Hermione revelled in the bright colour of her vibrant green eyes when she turned to glare at Hermione once more. Gods, her heart ached with missing Harry.

"You have the most beautiful eyes, Lily," Hermione complimented the witch before the shouting could begin and Lily spluttered at her.

"What?" she frowned, seeming so utterly surprised by the compliment that she'd been jolted right out of her temper tantrum.

"Your eyes," Hermione repeated. "They're brilliant. Such a rich colour. They glitter like emeralds when you're in a strop. It's… mesmerizing."

Lily looked over at James, who was eyeing Hermione like she might've gone mad.

"What's going on here, then?" a voice asked from the doorway and Hermione felt a little quiver of delight rush across her senses at the sound.

Remus.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked over to find him standing in the open doorway, looked rather amused by the fight taking place within and holding a bottle of wine. He'd recently showered, his sandy hair still damp, and he was dressed in a pair of jeans that fit just so, a plain black t-shirt and the grey jumper she'd given him on Monday morning.

"Remus," Hermione beamed at him. "Hello. Come in, won't you? I'm trying to explain to Evans that while a three-way between me, her and Prongs seems viable when she's got such pretty eyes, I've sworn off redheads. She's a bit put out, but we're negotiating terms."

James spluttered again.

"Moony, she's barmy," he muttered to the werewolf, whose eyebrows shot to his hairline while a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"You'd be up for it if not for the redhead thing?" Remus asked, leaning in the doorway and apparently willing to play along when he caught the wink Hermione shot in his direction.

"Well, I'd probably prefer guy-girl-guy if we're talking threesome, but I wouldn't mind if Evans wanted to watch. Are you free? Potter's in, obviously, what with being here for our booty call even if he did bring his girlfriend along. Poor form, Prongs," Hermione chided. "If I'd had a bit of warning, I'm sure we could've worked something out – temporary colour-change charm would work a trick, but I'd have to look one up."

Lily was spluttering now, seeming unable to comprehend the idea of Remus playing along with her jest.

"I might know of one," Remus suggested. "Usually works on skin, but hair should change too. Are you sworn off brunettes? Lily would look lovely with hair the same shade as yours."

Hermione grinned at him, pleased at the flirtatious tone in his voice and unable to keep from giggling, utterly thrilled that he'd come. She'd missed him all week and had positively ached to see him again. Knowing he was just down the street had almost killed her.

"I prefer sandy-haired blonds," Hermione admitted, raking her eyes over him hungrily and enjoying the way his eyes threaded with gold at the obvious desire in her eyes.

"I'm… this is ridiculous!" Lily announced, finding her voice once more. "I'm here, Granger, to hex you stupid for sleeping with my boyfriend."

"That hardly seems conducive to another round, Lily," Hermione said, feigning patience. Lily mottled with rage, pulling her wand.

"Don't," Hermione warned the witch, her own wand still in her hands thanks to the way she'd been holding it when she opened the door and had been using it to turn the vegetables while she teased the furious redhead. "You won't like the consequences."

"Oh, you think you're going to outduel me?" Lily actually laughed, and Hermione erected a shield charm before the witch threw a stinging hex at her.

"Evans," Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Lily, love, I'm telling you that it's all a misunderstanding. I've never shagged Granger. I've never… well, I was going to say I never laid a hand on her, but I'm pretty sure I groped her in my sleep, thinking she was you."

Lily flung another hex at Hermione. The urge to retaliate was strong, but Hermione squashed it down, watching Remus hurry into the room. His brow was furrowed.

"Lily, don't," he warned. "I've seen her fight. She could outduel you in her sleep. This is all just a misunderstanding. Trust me, love. The only one who laid a knowingly desirous hand on Hermione was me."

"Not true," Hermione corrected him, chuckling as she moved toward him, closing the distance between herself and Lily when James disarmed his girlfriend before she could get herself into real trouble.

"Not true?" Remus asked, glancing down.

"Sirius snogged me for those packed lunches on Monday morning," Hermione shrugged. "Figured you knew, what with snogging me stupid yourself not ten minutes later."

"As though I know what Padfoot tastes like?" Remus laughed, raising one eyebrow.

"What?" Hermione said defensively. "James has snogged him. Honestly, I was under the impression everyone has snogged Sirius. The man's a complete dog."

James snorted at her choice of words and Hermione grinned when she spotted the flash of jealously in Remus's eyes.

"James Potter, you give me back my wand this instant!" Lily snapped.

"Must we continue with the duelling?" Hermione sighed. "I really don't want to hurt you, Evans. I'm certain Remus might choose to forgo a second date with me if I hurt his friend."

"You slept with my boyfriend, you bitch!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Lily, she didn't!" James protested. "Bloody hell, witch, you're acting barmy! What's gotten into you?"

Lily emitted a screech of frustration, obviously feeling ganged up on.

"Wine, James?" Hermione sighed, turning back into the kitchen and picking up the bottle of wine she'd grabbed while she was out earlier, fishing some glasses from the cupboard. She poured one for herself and one for Remus whilst using her wand to make Lily a calming cup of chamomile tea.

"Uh… we should go. Don't want to ruin your date, love," James said awkwardly.

"It's a little late for that, mate," Remus told him, taking the glass Hermione passed to him and eyeing Hermione thoughtfully, obviously wondering why she'd provoked Lily further rather than jumping to explain herself.

"Evans, be a dear and drink this," Hermione said, handing the witch a cup of tea rather than wine, knowing she was pregnant even if the others didn't.

"What is this?" Lily demanded. "You offered James wine."

"James hasn't tried to hex me," Hermione told him. "And I've never seen this type of barmy on any non-pregnant witch, love. You won't be drinking wine under my roof; not in your condition."

Lily actually looked like she might faint, and James's face lost all colour. Remus stilled before his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose.

"P-Pregnant?" Lily spluttered, her face mottling once more. "You… You sleep with my boyfriend, you insinuate that you'd be up for a threesome except you don't like redheads, and now you're calling me fat?"

The witch looked ready to murder her and Hermione took a sip of her wine, lifting her eyes to look at Remus when he suddenly shuddered, leaning toward Lily and drawing more of her scent into himself, picking up on the change in her pheromones, no doubt.

James was white as a sheet.

"Pregnant?" he whispered. "You… Lily? Love? You're… you're pregnant?"

His eyes were on his girlfriend as she turned, shaking her head. They jumped to Remus when Remus began to nod very slowly.

"Why don't we all have dinner?" Hermione suggested, smiling softly when she saw James eyes well with tears of happiness, or perhaps terror, obviously trusting his best mate's nose more than Lily's denials. "There's more than enough. Prongs, you might as well Floo for Sirius and Peter, too, if they're free tonight. I think that maybe this will all look a little better over some food."

"Pregnant," James whispered again, apparently not hearing a word she'd said, his eyes once more fixed on his girlfriend.

Shaking her head, Hermione sent a Patronus to Sirius, inviting him and Peter over with some urgency.

"I'm not pregnant, James. Stop looking at me like that. And we're not staying for dinner. I won't eat with the witch who's trying to steal my boyfriend!"

Hermione sighed, looking up at Remus once more. The werewolf glanced down, meeting her gaze and raising one eyebrow.

"Hungry?" she asked the werewolf, deciding that Lily wasn't going to be reasoned with.

"Starving," he admitted. "Smells amazing in here, too."

Hermione smiled.

"I did say I'd make something you were sure to enjoy," she reminded him.

"You doubted I'd even show up," he corrected.

Hermione nodded. "When the doorbell rang I was actually shocked and thought it was you, only to be confronted by an angry little redhead operating under false information and jumping to conclusions."

"You tormented her?" Remus said, obviously asking after her reasoning for doing so.

"Have you seen the way her eyes glitter when she's in strop?" Hermione smiled at him. "It's brilliant. I was telling her so when you arrived."

"Pregnant?" James was saying again. "Lily… you're pregnant."

"I'm not," Lily said, frowning at her boyfriend.

"You are, Lily," Remus told the witch quietly, drawing her gaze and making her frown all the more.

"I can't be," she protested. "Alice and I made a fresh batch of contraceptive potion two weeks before Halloween."

"You probably forgot the starwort," Hermione told the girl gently, fishing into her purple beaded bag for a pregnancy test. "The Apothecaries have been out of it all season when the early frost got to it and killed it all off."

"I distinctly remember buying starwort, thank you very much."

"It's not starwort if you got if from the Apothecary in the Alley. I know because I bought some yesterday and had to take it back when I realised it was actually hellebore being passed off as starwort. Their recent staffing issue when they needed a new shop-girl and a new brewer was a result of dodgy folk doing such shady things," Hermione told her. "I spoke with the owner myself, and with their current brewer. He confirmed I'd been sold hellebore passed off as starwort. If you put hellebore in your potion instead of starwort, you're probably pregnant and you've probably been feeling off colour since you stated taking the new batch."

Lily was slowly paling at her words, seeming to have forgotten her anger with Hermione as she listened to the explanation.

"I've… I've been feeling sick for a little while," she whispered.

Hermione handed her the pregnancy test she'd fished out of the bag. "The loo is down the hall."

"She's pregnant," James whispered, watching his girlfriend take the test from Hermione with a shaking hand before she hurried down the hall.

"Might be time for the proposal for real, Prongs," Remus said to his best friend, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Right," Prongs muttered. "I'm… Right! Bloody hell. Don't let her out of that loo until I get back."

He Disapparated with a sharp crack and Hermione grinned, suspecting he was about to rush off and collect a family heirloom to propose to his girlfriend.

"You better get Sirius here fast, Remus," Hermione told him. "I don't think he'll be pleased to miss James proposing for real."

"You… you knew?" he murmured, looking down at her. "How?"

"How do you?" Hermione challenged in return, lifting one eyebrow and wondering if it would be so easy to have him confess his lycanthropy.

Remus's cheeks turned pink and he made like he was going to leave to fetch Sirius before both Sirius and Peter appeared in the still-open doorway to her flat.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked, strolling in. "Hey, Treasure. You got everything unpacked, eh? Looks nice in here. And what is that  _smell_?"

"Dinner," Hermione grinned. "Hi, Peter. Listen, you two grab a seat, yeah? You're about to see the show of a lifetime. Remus, help me with the roast?"

Using her wand, she drew the meat and the vegetables from the oven, flicking it to send plates and extra cutlery dancing over to the table.

"What do you need me to do?" Remus asked. "Gods, it smells amazing, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. I need you to carve, alright?"

She fixed a jug of gravy to have with it before peeking into the oven at the dessert she still had cooking and pouring glasses of wine for Peter and Sirius.

"Why are we crashing your date?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Lily and James crashed it. They'll both be back in a moment," Hermione smiled at the young Auror. "It's fine. Peter, you like roast onions?"

"Oh, yeah sure. Thanks," Wormtail said. "I feel bad that we're invading on your date, though."

"Don't sweat it, Wormtail" Remus chuckled, wielding the carving knife to slice the roast and emitting a soft purring growl of delight when he breathed in the rich scent coming off of it. "This will be well worth an interrupted date, I'd reckon."

Hermione smiled hurrying over and squeezing past Remus, unable to resist pressing herself to his back for a moment, pressing her nose to the back of his jumper and breathing him in. He paused in his carving to look over his shoulder at her, smiling widely. Hermione could tell from the glimmer in his eyes that he was happy, and the nervousness Hermione had been feeling to have him arrive melted away.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked. "You said Prongs and Lily were here?"

"James just ducked out," Hermione smiled. "Lily's in the loo. You like pumpkin, Sirius?"

"Sure do, love," he smiled. "Oi, I lost track of you yesterday in the chaos?"

"That surprises you?" Hermione asked.

"Yesterday?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows as he carved the roast and began serving it onto plates for the six of them.

"Sirius's bosses think I'm dodgy," Hermione informed him, smiling. "He's been forced to escort me in the alley whenever I leave the shop for anything, under the pretence of quizzing me."

"Looked pretty bloody dodgy when you started firing hexes at a pair of Death Eaters before I did, treasure," Sirius told her. "Shacklebolt about handed me my arse when you slipped away. A lot of witnesses claim you were directing them out of harm's way, and you were seen Stunning Lestrange and duelling with Carrow."

"Bitch got away, too," Hermione muttered. "They were after someone, did you lot find the woman?"

"We did," Sirius nodded. "When she was questioned, she said she spoke to you. You're wanted for questioning."

"There's a warrant out for my arrest?" Hermione frowned.

"Course there isn't," Sirius shook his head. "No one but me had any idea of your name and no one claims to recognise you from anywhere. You…"

Hermione tensed, her eyes darting toward Peter, who was eyeing her strangely, his eyes ever so slightly narrowed. Hermione wondered if he was already passing information to the Death Eaters. She wasn't worried that any of them would turn up at her place. They might be able to reach her door, but they'd never be able to penetrate her flat if she barricaded herself in.

"I just got out of the way, Sirius," Hermione lied. "I'm not exactly… ah… fond of crowds, at the best of times."

"You duelled two Death Eaters," Sirius argued.

"Flinging a hex or two is hardly a duel."

"Reports claim you were bleeding. You took a hex."

Hermione sighed, willing Sirius to let it go.

"This isn't really date talk, mate," Remus said, seeming to pick up on her reluctance to discuss what had happened when she looked like she wanted to toss them all out of her flat.

Sirius grunted, his eyes darting to Remus and back again.

"It's not," he agreed. "But you and I need to have a little chat soon, treasure. I've kept your name out of things because I trust you, though Merlin bloody knows why, but if I can't offer something, people above my paygrade will get involved."

Hermione made a mental note to conduct more of her duelling and her attempts to derail the war away from the prying eyes of the public.

Right at that moment, James apparated onto the stoop outside her door, hurrying into the flat.

"Oi, you're here!" he exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "Where's Lily?"

"She's still in the loo," Hermione said, pleased for the distraction.

James raced to the door, knocking on it gently for all his excitement.

"Lily? Love? Are you alright?" he asked.

The door creaked open a moment later to reveal and shell-shocked looking Lily Evans. She clutched the pregnancy test in her hand and Hermione could tell it was positive from across the room.

"I…" she began, her chin trembling like she might cry. Her eyes darted to meet James's gaze, her hand shaking around the test.

"It's positive," James said, sounding pleased rather than shocked. Hermione knew he didn't need the test to know she was pregnant. He trusted Remus's nose for that.

Lily nodded.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that she sounded terrified.

" _We're_  pregnant," James corrected. "That's my kid you're growing in there, love. Our kid. I know I joke around a lot, and I know I've asked you so many times, I've lost count of how frequently you've turn me down, but…"

"Don't you dare propose," Lily interrupted.

"Love, you're having my baby," James said patiently, smiling at his girlfriend. "I'm going to propose. And this time I really, really want you to say yes."

"You shagged another witch, Potter," Lily protested, her fist tightening on the pregnancy test as she looked in Hermione's direction.

"He really didn't, Lily," Hermione smiled kindly. "I was having you on. In poor taste, now, I know. Sorry about that. I meant it about your eyes. They're amazing when you're angry. James did sleep in my bed last weekend after he passed out on the couch drinking with these three."

She jerked her thumb at the other three Marauders. Sirius looked to be bouncing in his chair at the very idea that James was proposing and Lily was pregnant. A huge grin lit his entire face.

"We levitated him in there because there wasn't room in the spare and Peter was already asleep on the couch. He drooled all over my brand new pillows and I spent the majority of the night decidedly not sleeping next to him. When I did finally get to bed, I did wake up to the sod spooning me and groping me, thinking me to be you. And when he realised that it wasn't you he actually cried a little at the very idea that he might lose you over harmless sleep actions."

"You said he was here for a booty call."

"A booty call?" Sirius spoke up. "Of all the people you call for cheap, tawdry sex, you ask James and not me. I'm heartbroken, treasure."

"You'd have made it all about you," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"She knows you too well already, Pads," Peter chuckled.

"Now I'm being accused of a being selfish lover?" Sirius demanded, though he was still grinning. "Witch, I  _will_  bend you over something and set you straight about my sexual preference and skills if you keep this up!"

"Could you refrain from threatening to ravish  _my_  date, Pads?" Remus inserted dryly.

Lily, meanwhile, looked terribly confused while James seemed unable to take his eyes off his intended.

"Oi, I'm trying to propose, you pack of animals!" he exclaimed, interrupting them as they squabbled. "Lily, love, you know you're the only witch for me. You've been the only witch for me since I was fourteen and I'd like to think you know that I've never looked twice at anyone else. You're all I want. You're all I've ever wanted. You're all I ever will want, for the rest of our lives. You, and that little Quidditch superstar you've got growing inside you right now, and any other rugrats we decide to have."

Lily's eyes darted to James as he slowly lowered himself down onto one knee in the middle of Hermione flat, producing a small, blue, velvet ring-box from his pocket and opening it to the girl. Lily blinked at him stupidly, her chin trembling as she examined the glittering jewel of a promise ring James offered her.

"So," he said, his face lit into a grin so wide it was a wonder he wasn't glowing with happiness. "At the risk of having you turn me down  _again_. I'm going to ask, darling. Will you marry me? Please?"

Lily let him take her hand, prying the ring from the box where it had been nestled and poising it at the end of her wedding finger, waiting for her answer.

"I… This is how you want to propose for real?" she asked, frowning at him carefully. "I've turned you down all those times you've asked because I  _knew_  you'd be disappointed not to make some disgustingly over the top scene. Are you asking me for real?"

James started to laugh.

"Love, I've got the ring ready to slide onto your finger. I've just learned you're pregnant. I've got the three idiots I care about more than anyone else in the room," he smiled. "Trust me, I'm asking for real. I want you to be my wife, Lily Evans. Will you?"

Lily's eyes overflowed with tears as she nodded her head.

The sound of cheering from the Marauders almost overshadowed the sound of more cheering that she didn't recognise, and Hermione spun toward the door to see an elderly couple standing on the stoop. They had to be James's parents. There could be no doubt about it. The man looked like a grey-haired version of James and it was clear at a glance that the beautiful woman on his arm came from the Black bloodline.

"Mum, Dad," James grinned, glancing over once he'd slipped the promise ring the length of Lily's finger, sliding it all the way down until it met her knuckle. "You made it! Come in! Hermione, you don't mind, right?"

Hermione shook her head, beckoning the couple inside and summoning two more place-settings before drawing up two more chairs to make room for the pair at the dining table.

"Lads, I'm getting hitched!" James crowed, grinning at his friends before triumphantly pumping both fists into the air, making Lily laugh.

"And I'll be stuck with you forever," she sighed, feigning disappointment before her hand smoothed carefully over her abdomen.

"You better believe it," James smiled widely, his hands moving to press protectively to her abdomen as well, their fingers linking.

"Oh, this is just wonderful," Dorea Potter announced as she hurried inside. "I was certain we'd be in our graves before you agreed to marry him, Lily dear. Congratulations and felicitations to both of you. Oh, Charlus, I'm so happy!"

Hermione smiled fondly as the woman rushed over to pull her son and her daughter-in-law into a tight embrace.

"Well," Remus muttered from close to her ear as Hermione continued serving up food onto everyone's plates, having to subtly cast some duplication charms to make sure there would be enough for everyone. "This will certainly be a memorable first date."

Hermione laughed.

"Well, then I'm glad," she replied. "I'd hate to be forgettable."

Remus grinned at her, reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips. She watched him press a kiss to the back of it with a warm glow of happiness spreading through her soul as everyone sat down to eat.


	11. Chapter 11

_Friday 16th November, 1979 – 9:35PM_

**Hermione's Flat, Diagon Alley**

Dinner had long since been eaten and Sirius had excused himself before dessert to attend a date of his own. Peter too had made excuses and been on his way after heartily tucking into the meal she'd prepared. Charlus and Dorea Potter had proven to be the most interesting people Hermione had met to date and she'd been a little sad to see them go when they too had excused themselves before dessert. Knowing they were intruding on Remus's date had left everyone feeling the need to be on their way after enjoying the meal and celebrating James and Lily's engagement with much toasting and many words of praise.

James and Lily, obviously more smitten with one another than ever, had just said their goodbyes and Floo'd to Lily's flat. Hermione knew they had much to discuss knowing they had a baby on the way and a shot-gun wedding to plan. She smiled at Remus over the rim of her wine glass as she watched him move from the dining table to the couch after flicking his wand to set the dishes washing themselves in the kitchen. She'd just served him up a hefty slice of the chocolate lava pudding she knew had once been his favourite and he'd already had the spoon in his mouth as he lowered himself down to sit on the couch.

She smiled softly to herself as he groaned at the flavour, his eyes having lit up at the sight and smell of the dessert she'd prepared just for him.

"Bloody hell,  _gealai_ ," he murmured when he opened his eyes, having swallowed his mouthful. "I could get used to this."

Hermione grinned, looking at her feet as her cheeks turned pink with happiness at the praise.

"I'm glad you like it. It's not too rich, is it? I was worried that it might be a bit too rich," Hermione admitted.

"It's perfect," he assured her. "I could live on nothing but this for the rest of time. And I know I said that about the roast, but I take it back about the roast because this is so delicious that if it were possible to come from the flavour of food, I would."

Hermione snorted in amusement at his blunt, but complimentary words.

"And that was crass," he confessed, frowning. "Sorry. I'm too used to interacting with the lads."

"I can't say I mind," Hermione shrugged. "But I'm pleased you like it. There's plenty more."

"Don't tell me that, or I might actually eat my weight in cake," he confessed.

"Do you want more wine to go with it, or would you prefer tea?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe tea?" he asked. "The wine will taste sour after something so sweet."

Hermione nodded, flicking her wand at the kettle before crossing the room to drop down onto the couch beside him. She enjoyed it entirely too much when he continued to make little sounds of delight with almost everyone mouthful as he ate his dessert. If she was being honest, Hermione could hardly take her eyes off him. So young and so handsome, he was a delight to the senses, but the fact that he was so gloriously alive was what captivated her. Even as she watched him, the haunting image of him dead on that stone floor after the battle flashed behind her eyes and Hermione had to fight the urge she had to crawl into his lap and beg him to always be safe and happy and wonderfully alive.

"So," he said, eyeing her when she'd fixed them both a cup of tea and returned to the couch, sitting beside him and handing him a second helping of dessert though he hadn't asked for one. "Tell me about you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione blinked at him, realising suddenly that for all that they'd spent two wonderful evenings together, they hadn't traded some of the basics.

"There's not much to know, Remus," Hermione shrugged. "I was a good girl at school. Studious and boring. Did my homework on time. Didn't get into any trouble. You know, dull, really."

"I doubt very much that you've ever been dull,  _gealai_ ," he disagreed. "What do you do for fun?"

"Read," Hermione admitted, blushing.

Remus chuckled. "Well, what do you like to read? I can't get a handle on your tastes from your collection. It seems like you've got a bit of everything."

"I do," Hermione smiled, looking around her shelves fondly. "I'm muggleborn, you see? I don't know if I mentioned that earlier. But as a result, I had a lot of catching up to do when I was admitted into the magical world at the age of eleven. I wanted to know everything. It's why I ended up invisible at school. No one noticed me because I was too busy burying my nose in whichever books I could get my hands on to learn all about the history of the magical world, and the way the government worked and how everyone interacted and the etiquette of being a witch. And then there were the subjects… Gods, Remus, the subjects! There are just so many and I'm sure that even if I devoted my life to studying them all, I'd still never know everything there is to know about the magical world and all its many secrets."

Remus grinned at her.

"Which one is your favourite?" he asked.

"Which subject? At school my best subject was probably Transfiguration," Hermione admitted. "Being muggleborn, I'd grown up thinking that magic was about turning one thing into something else. Little boys into warty toads, bouquets into birds, that sort of thing. I wanted to know how to do it for myself, and there were so many rules about what could safely be transfigured from one thing into another. I've always been good with rules, if I'm honest. I might put a toe out of line for the greater good when the need arises, but for the most part I function best with a strict set of guidelines on how to behave."

"Not me," Remus shook his head. "Though you probably suspected as much, given who I'm friends with."

"Oh, yes," Hermione grinned. "I had noticed that during your time at Hogwarts, you and the boys got into no small amount of trouble every week."

Remus smiled sheepishly. "I was the most rule-abiding, I'll have you know."

Hermione lifted her eyes to meet his for a moment, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Somehow, I doubt that, Remus Lupin. I think that James and Sirius might've been the ones who got caught more often, but you rarely abide by anyone's rules. You just know how to avoid getting caught."

His wicked grin showed off the fact that he was very much a Marauder at heart and Hermione wanted to sing with happiness at the sight of him this way.

"It's a gift," he said with a wink, looking entirely too wicked for anyone's good. Hermione was certain she was going to ruin her knickers when he was sitting there looking so deliciously handsome.

"One I'm sure you take shameless advantage of," Hermione chuckled. "What about you, Remus? What do you do for fun?"

Remus paused with his spoon in his mouth, looking like he was rather surprised by the question. Hermione watched him as he chewed the bite of cake and swallowed it.

"Do you know, I've never actually thought about it before," he said finally, looking rather amused with himself. "I suppose I read, as well. I read, and I drink with the lads, and I let Sirius drag me out with the intention picking up too many birds… I… shite, sorry about that last one."

He looked sheepish, his cheeks turning pink when he realised what he'd said, and Hermione began to laugh at how suddenly contrite he looked.

"I'm hardly going to fault you for having a past, Remus," Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at him fondly before taking a sip of her tea and watching him over the rim of her teacup.

He blinked at her, not seeming to know what to make of the kind of girl who knew he had a past as something of a rake but didn't hold it against him.

"Right," he said, frowning a little. "Well… Yeah, that's about it, really. Reading. Drinking. Sometimes, when James has a game on, we get free tickets and go along to watch him play. The rest of the time I suppose I'm just working, you know?"

Hermione nodded.

"It's strange really, how the routine of a stable job somehow seems to take up most of you free time, isn't it? I've been a bit out of practice, actually, so this last week was a bit of a strain, if I'm being honest," she said.

"For me too," Remus nodded. "It's hardly an exciting or glamourous job like being an Auror or a Quidditch player for one of the league teams. Selling cauldrons is the definition of dull, though I did manage to get into a heated argument with Snivellus when he stormed into the shop the other day muttering about cheap copper cauldrons that melted under any kind of strain when he was brewing something with Mugwort in it. Should've seen his face when he spotted me selling the cauldrons."

Remus laughed, clearly recalling with a somewhat vicious glee that he'd had a fight with Snape in the shop.

"Snivellus?" Hermione asked, feigning ignorance of the nickname's origin and owner.

"Oh, right," Remus said. "Sorry, love. Snape. He's taken up the brewing job at the Apothecary on the Alley. We don't get on, see? He wasn't too pleased to see me."

"After some of the things the Marauders did to him at school, I can't say I blame him," Hermione said, still eyeing him curiously, unable to wrench her eyes away from him when he looked so at ease and so handsome.

Remus raised his eyebrows at her.

"You disapprove of our antics?" he asked. "You realise that Snape's a Death Eater, don't you?"

Hermione nodded.

"I know," she said. "And I expect that it might, in no small part, be due to the fact that a rubbish and abusive home-life, coupled with being harassed and bullied throughout his adolescence led him down that path."

Remus frowned at her for a long moment.

"You think we were too hard on him? Have you met him? He's the most vicious sod on the planet."

"Rather like a mutt that's been kicked too many times," Hermione sighed. "And a good number of those kicks came from you and your friends, Remus. I'm not excusing his interest in Dark magic, or the path he's chosen to walk, but I think it's rather prudent to point out that if you'd all been a little nicer to him, he might've just gone on to be an ugly, brooding Potioneer, rather than a Death Eater on top of those other things."

"You think we pushed him to join You Know Who?" Remus frowned. "Us?"

"I think your treatment of him certainly helped. I'm not saying you're wholly responsible, of course. His place in Slytherin alongside blood-bigots like Malfoy, Lestrange, the Carrows, Mulciber, Travers and Macnair certainly didn't help matters. They're rather like sharks, and if you don't turn shark yourself then you're just blood in the water and the newest sport of the hour, from what I can see. He'd likely have benefited from solid friendships with people like you and James and Sirius, you know? It's no secret that he and Lily were friends a long time."

"He called Lily a mudblood, Hermione," Remus argued, frowning at her.

"In a moment of embarrassment and anger with James and Sirius goading and hexing him, even going so far as to strip him half-naked in front of half the school. He lashed out irrationally because it probably wounded his delicate male ego to always have a girl coming to his defence. I'm certain the four of you taunted his manhood to have to hide behind the defence of a girl a time or two."

"You're saying that you'd have forgiven your best friend if he'd called you a mudblood?" Remus asked. "You think it's alright he lashed out in anger to spit such an ugly racial slur? You've seen firsthand what that kind of bigotry can lead to, Hermione."

He reached for her scarred forearm, frowning.

"I have," she agreed. "I endured a horrific ordeal at the hands of blood maniacs, and I got through it alright. Lily, on the other hand, had the word flung at her once and refused to ever speak to her very best friend ever again, Remus. That would be like James or Sirius calling you a were…."

Hermione stopped abruptly when she realised what she'd been about to say, seeing the way Remus's whole body tensed in horror. She frowned down at her teacup for a long moment as the silence stretched between them, Remus not daring to acknowledge what she'd almost called him and Hermione sensing that if she pushed that issue right now he'd walk out the door and never speak to her again.

"My point is, Snape called her a mudblood, yes. And that was wrong. He shouldn't have said it. The rest of the term he spent sleeping outside our bloody common room, begging everyone who passed to please fetch Lily for him while he apologised over and over again to the portrait of the Fat Lady was more than a little pathetic, I'll admit, but it was obviously the more heartfelt sentiment of the two," Hermione said quietly. "I don't want to fight about it, I'm just saying that maybe you and the rest of the Marauders ought to be a little nicer to Snape."

"He's still a Death Eater, Hermione. He made his choice, and he'd hex any one of us dead in the street if he had the chance."

"Perhaps he would," Hermione allowed.

Silence stretched between them again after that, and Hermione suspected that no matter what she said about Snape, her almost admitting to knowing he was a werewolf was weighing on his mind. She suspected he'd very much like to know if she actually knew his secret, or if she'd been bluffing, but he didn't dare to ask.

"Would you like some more cake?" she offered, the silence stretching so long that it grew awkward.

"No, thanks," he answered quietly, and Hermione suspected he'd lost his appetite.

She cast around the room for something else to say, realising he'd done what she hadn't seen him do since someone attending Headquarters for the first time realised he was a werewolf. He was closing himself off, as if to distance himself from the impending cruelty and revulsion and fear he expected to have slung at him.

"Well…." She sighed, getting to her feet and moving over to her bookshelf, spying a book she recalled reading with him once and pouring over for it's contradicting theories on quantum transfiguration. "This date certainly didn't turn out as I expected."

Remus laughed bitterly.

"What were you expecting?" he asked a little bitterly. "A suave and gentile dinner with a dashing  _man_  to sweep you off your feet."

She could tell from the way he sneered the word 'man' that he didn't consider himself one.

"Actually, I envisioned snogging you against the counters and having you feed my titbits of roast and vegetables in between passionate snogs," Hermione replied, pulling the book off the shelf and turning to face him once more, frowning when she saw that he was on his feet and looking like he meant to leave.

"Is that so?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her doubtfully.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"It was a toss up between that and us burning the roast when we got too carried away shagging on the kitchen floor to take it out of the oven," she said, tracing her eyes over him and catching the way his eyes threaded with the gold of the wolf all over again.

"And instead James put the rest of us to shame by impregnating and proposing to his date," Remus replied. "I hope he hasn't set the bar for your expectations,  _gealai_."

Hermione's lips twitched.

"When the time comes that I want you to impregnate and propose to me, you'll know, Remus," she answered, stepping closer whilst holding the book.

"When?" he asked, catching her phrasing. "Not if?"

Hermione grinned widely at him.

"I don't insist on dating just anyone when a hot shag is offered in lieu of all that messy romance, Remus," Hermione told him seriously. "If I wasn't in this thinking seriously about a future with you, I'd have ravished you silly last weekend and unceremoniously shoved you out the door when I was done with you. I don't cook for just anyone, you know?"

Remus's response was to bury his hands in her hair, lowering his mouth to hers to steal a dizzying kiss that stole her breath and drenched her knickers all in one. His tongue swept into her mouth hotly, tracing the length of hers and coaxing her into kissing him back as her head swam with pleasure. He kissed he like he might never see her again, and Hermione tossed the book she clutched down onto one of the couch cushions so she could pull him closer.

Merlin, he kissed her like he couldn't get enough of her and the thought crossed her mind that he might be planning to seduce her out of her knickers this evening before disappearing. She'd revealed her hand just a little too much by arguing that their treatment of Snape had been unfair, and she'd worsened it by almost admitting to knowing about his lycanthropy. She suspected that Remus was going to run the minute he'd shagged her, and Hermione found herself caught somewhere between desperately wanting to shag him into oblivion, hoping he might come back for more if she made it memorable enough; and wanting to keep him on the hook a bit longer by letting him get so far before hitting the brakes. She didn't want to be a tease, and in truth she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop herself if he was willing to ravish her right there on the couch cushions, but she didn't want to risk losing him either. She'd gotten one date out of him, and it'd turned slightly sour.

What if she shagged him and he didn't come back for more? Hermione didn't think she could stand that.

Pushing him away before they could go beyond the point of no return, Hermione blinked dazedly at him. He emitted a soft growl, clearly not impressed to be stopped, but Hermione held her ground. Her breath came in ragged gasps and she met his gaze boldly.

"What happened to ravishing me on the kitchen floor and forgetting to take the roast out of the oven?" he asked huskily, his breath short and his cheeks flushed with colour.

"If I let you have me tonight, I'll never see you again," Hermione replied breathlessly.

"You still doubt me?" he asked. "I showed up for our date, didn't I?"

Hermione's lips pulled up.

"You did," she acknowledged. "And I'm very pleased you did. But you're going to run unless I keep dangling what you want in front of you. I've irritated you with what I said before, and once you get your kicks, you're gone."

"I'm not just going to use you, Hermione," Remus frowned at her.

"I know," she smiled. "I'm not going to let you."

He shook his head at her slowly.

"Why are you so convinced you want to date someone like me?" he wanted to know. "I'm hardly the man you need, Hermione."

"Not someone  _like_  you," she shook her head. "You, Remus. Specifically,  _you_. You're who I want."

His eyes widened a little bit at the bold statement and Hermione hoped she hadn't said too much too soon. Hell, she'd already thrown caution to the wind by snogging him in the first place. It was no secret that she was attracted to him.

"You won't want me when you find out what I'm really like," he warned her, his secret clearly tormenting him.

Hermione's laugh, when it came, was a little bitter.

"You think you're the only one with secrets, Remus Lupin?" she asked in a low whisper, turning away from him and moving across the room, into the kitchen. "You think you're the only one afraid that when the other learns the truth, they'll run? Believe me, love, there are skeletons in my closet I'm afraid to have you find. Scarier ones than yours."

"I don't have skeletons in my closet," Remus replied quietly. "Just a monster under the bed."

Hermione almost laughed at the poorly concealed werewolf reference.

"Better that than a head full of faces you can't forget and a sea of nightmares just waiting to pull you under, love," Hermione said, boiling the kettle one more time and setting about making a cup of tea.

"Nightmares about the people who did this to your arm?" Remus asked, coming up behind her and carefully moulding himself against her back.

The position was so reminiscent of the night he'd marked her during their Horcrux hunt that if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was right back there in the kitchen in Grimmauld Place. What she wouldn't give to have to moment back, knowing Harry and Ron were upstairs and just a shout away. Merlin, even knowing he'd married Tonks and was expecting a baby, if she could have that moment back, Hermione would've turned and pulled him into her arms. She would've let him do more than just grind his erection on her arse. Hell, maybe if she had, he might not have died, and she might never have had to hurl herself back through time.

"Sometimes," Hermione nodded, closing her eyes and leaning back against his chest. "Sometimes nightmares of things I hope you'll never witness, Remus. Things I'd kill to protect you and your friends from. There are demons in my head just waiting to rip this world apart, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep them locked up tight. To keep you safe."

"Me?" he asked, nosing at the side of her neck and pushing aside the neckline of her cardigan. She curled her arms up around the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair and smiling a little at the way he rubbed himself against her bum, letting her feel how badly he wanted her, no matter the seriousness of their discussion.

"You, Remus Lupin," Hermione whispered. "The monster under your bed's got nothing on the demons in my head. All the claws and fangs in the world couldn't save you if my demons got loose."

Hermione hissed between her teeth when Remus nuzzled her shoulder before fitting his teeth over the mark he'd left on her skin, and biting down hard.


End file.
